


The Spare

by Prodigalsan



Series: U'Din the Spare [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Agnostic Dalish Elf, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Currently being revised, Don't say I didn't warn you, Elf-centric, Eventual Smut maybe, Gonna be Halla Long, HAS AN OBNOXIOUS MYSTERY ELEMENT, M/M, Mentions of dub-con, Multi, Obsessed minor character, Passive Behavior, Passive Suicidal Ideation, Reluctant Inquisitor, Romance, Self-Destructive Behavior, Self-Esteem Issues, Should I Mention Spoilers?, Slight self-loathing, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Masked Empire, Temper Issues, not for the impatient lol, temporary disability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 293,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigalsan/pseuds/Prodigalsan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was asked by the Keeper to spy on the meeting and come back with news of its outcome. However,” Ellana paused and turned to a set-up tent. “With the Keeper ill, I have to remain here to take care of the clan. I thought about sending Mahanon, but he has recently been named head hunter, and thus cannot leave. You, however, are the Second, so the duty then falls to you.</p><p>“So? Will you do it? For the clan?”</p><p>He didn’t need further prompting. U’Din just gave her one of his well-practiced smiles and nodded. “For the clan.”</p><p>--</p><p>A resigned, jaded U'Din Lavellan is cast into the role of Herald, Inquisitor, <i>leader</i> and does not know what to do about it. Amidst all the bloody battles, the pressures of the role thrust upon him, and self-esteem and identity issues, he finds solace in, well, <i>Solas.</i></p><p>--</p><p>** Revision in progress (1-5). Expect some discrepancies, huhu. Progress is documented <a href="http://prodigal-san.tumblr.com/the-spare-revision">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For the Clan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U'Din thinks that death by sealing giant hole in the sky is a pretty badass way to go, if you ignore the demons, the unfairly attractive hedge mage, and the quiet self-loathing that precede it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (11/13/2017): MAJOR REVISION. Nothing really changes, per se, but the scenes are much different to make the story's beginning more unique. U'Din's characterization is also improved. I'll continue to improve the rest of the chapters too :3 My beta, Rikka, will look at this in a bit to correct any mistakes.

_So it has come to this._

The demon loomed over him like a deathly promise, opening its deformed, melting jaws and staring at him with beady, lifeless eyes. Its body was grossly decaying, releasing a foul odor that made his eyes water and nose itch. The others talked about a grotesque spider, a malevolent-looking dragon, even an ominous cloud of _nothing_. But what he saw towering over him was _not_ nothing. It was fear.

_And fear takes many forms._

He laughed almost hysterically to himself, wondering if this was how it was meant to end. If this was him entering the stage of his final act, and facing this demon was his final scene. He and the demon were the only actors now, while the others...

_The others are safe. It’s just you now._

The demon growled menacingly, and it took every ounce of bravery he had to not quiver in the face of death. Taking a deep breath and gripping his staff tight, he marched with a gait he did not truly possess, but would emulate, for honor. For peace. For love.

The hero closed his eyes and held out his hand.

 

* * *

 

“...And? And then what?”

“What did he do, brother U’Din?”

“I’m so scared! I almost don’t want to know what happens next—“

“Can we go back to the funny stories, please?”

He smiled fondly at the children seated before him, telling them to quiet down so he could continue his tale. The children hushed immediately, looking up at him with fear and anticipation in their eyes. It made his smile widen, and he opened his mouth to resume—

“U’Din?”

His smiling face froze. He turned to see the Keeper’s First, Ellana, standing a few feet away from him. Her eyebrows were meeting in the middle, a tell-tale sign that her call had not been a good-natured greeting.

U’Din sighed and closed the journal in his hands. He turned back to the children and told them that he would have to continue his story another time. They groaned and complained, but U’Din just smiled indulgently down at them.

“Why don’t you kids go play Wolf Chases Halla?” he suggested, voice warm and kind.

Two boys from the group shared wide-eyed looks before grinning. One of them pointed at a girl standing right beside him, squealing, “you’re the Wolf, then!”

U’Din watched the rest of the children squeal and run away from the girl who snarled and swiped her “claws” as she chased her friends. He chuckled, shaking his head at their antics. He picked up his staff and turned to approach Ellana; his smile fading with each step.

“Yes?” he asked warily. “You needed something, Ellana?”

The Keeper’s First watched the children play with a far-off look. She sighed and eventually turned back to him, face unreadable. She was trying to come up with the words to say, U’Din thought, so he stood there patiently, waiting. When she sighed, the elf mage braced himself for chastisement, criticism—

“I need you to do something for me.”

Or a command. Well, he supposed it was natural. She was the First; he a measly Second. He smiled tentatively at her and he said, “sure, Ellana. What is it?”

Ellana hesitated again, and the lack of her usual arrogance began to bother U’Din. Before he could ask what was wrong, she turned and started walking away, and he knew he was meant to follow her. He walked in-step next to her, listening.

“The shem’lens are conducting some sort of meeting at one of their temples. The one with the woman’s ashes in it. Maybe you’ve heard of it; it’s called the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” she began. “This meeting is an attempt at an alliance between the feuding mages and templars. About time, if you ask me. The clan still refuses to go near Kirkwall.”

U’Din nodded, frowning. “I don’t particularly blame the elders for that. The Sabrae clan had been wiped out, hadn’t it? By the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Exactly. Which is why a meeting between shem’lens can’t be trusted. Mark my words, this will just end in bloodshed. A few heads will roll too, I’d wager. And they call _us_ savages, hmph.”

U’Din nodded again, though this time he felt confused. “And? That’s nothing new. The shems are always at war with each other, aren’t they? If we just leave them alone, we—“

“Could be affected,” Ellana interjected, stopping and facing him. Her face bore a hard, a familiar haughtiness that frequently reminded him of his place. “Depending on what happens during this meeting, several things could change. Maybe for the better, but most likely the worse, given the shems’ history. The Keeper is curious if any of us will be included in this change, whatever it is.”

“And by us, you mean Dalish?” Ellana nodded gravely, and U’Din’s eyebrows shot up. “So you’re saying—“

“Indeed. This morning, I was asked by the Keeper to spy on the meeting and come back with news of its outcome. However,” Ellana paused and turned to a set-up tent. “With the Keeper ill, I have to remain here to take care of the clan. I thought about sending Mahanon, but he has recently been named head hunter, and thus cannot leave. You, however, are the Second, so the duty then falls to you.”

“ _Me_?” he asked incredulously, laughing slightly. He waited for her to take it back, say it was a joke—but the harshness of her features made him feel dread. “You want _me_ to do it?”

“Believe me, I considered _all_ options,” she said snidely, making him wince. “But there is no other alternative. This must be done. We _need_ to find out what the shems are planning, U’Din. I refuse to let our clan to be the next Sabrae clan, the next casualty of the shems’ pursuit of the _greater good_. The war between the mages and templars has gone on so long that they would be looking for a scapegoat, and I don’t want that to be us. You don’t want that either, do you?”

The thought of his clan becoming the next victim of a selfish shem war enveloped him in cold rage, and he reeled in the anger before it could manifest in sparks on the ground. He shook his head slowly and said, “of course not. I’d rather die than let that happen.”

Ellana seemed to find something humorous with his words, but otherwise kept a serious face when she asked, “So? Will you do it? For the clan?”

He didn’t need further prompting. U’Din just gave her one of his well-practiced smiles and nodded. “For the clan.”

 

* * *

 

Cautiously, he navigated the dark, eerie place. His small steps grew bigger and bigger as panic started to set in, and he went on a full sprint when the first Undead crept out of a dark crevice in the walls. A large part of him just wanted this madness to stop, and he briefly entertained the idea of letting the monstrous creatures feast on his flesh.

But he must survive. _For the clan_.

He ran and jumped and climbed, following the bright light which he hoped would lead him to freedom. A hand was held out for him, and he almost cried in relief as he reached out to grab it—

 

* * *

 

He woke up to near darkness, and to a surprised elf looking down at him. U’Din couldn’t help but bark out a relieved laugh. The like-eared stranger had no idea, but his mere existence grounded U’Din, made him understand that he was safe. The elf’s face became blurred, and he had no idea if it was because of the tears in his eyes, or the warm, sleepy magic radiating from the stranger’s palm. _Rest_ , he said, in a low, kind voice.

“Help,” he begged, and the palm on his forehead stilled. “ _Help, please._ ”

The stranger looked even more strange in that moment, but it was fleeting, and U’Din’s mind could not be trusted at this point. A spark of pain and green light were the last vestiges of consciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he must have heard, but U’Din wouldn’t know. He continued to beg, his words becoming a litany of garbled words and hysterical pleas of saving.

 _For the clan_ , he said in his mind before everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

The next time U’Din regained consciousness, it wasn’t to the kind eyes of the like-eared stranger. It was to the harsh sound of a cage being drawn open forcibly, and loud yelling by an irate woman.

“What do you mean he hasn’t woken?” the voice demanded, and U’Din felt fear creep up inside him when he realized that she was talking about him. “The apostate said he woke up briefly yesterday. That means he’s _better_ now, yes?”

“Possibly. Solas had been rather vague, but he did say that he was due to wake soon. We only have to wait.” That belonged to a woman’s voice as well, but it was softer, lovelier.

“But when is _soon_? The Breach is getting larger with each passing hour and I refuse to let it consume the entire World! Not without making _him_ pay!”

“We don’t even know if the elf caused it, Cassandra. I understand your frustration—“

“I am _not_ frustrated, Leliana! I am enraged. I am distraught! This _elf_ has the only answers, and he’s _sleeping_. He’s sleeping while the entire World crumbles around him!” the harsh voice heaved, then there was a pause. A groan of metal. “That apostate, Solas. Do you think he has something to do with this?”

“What do you mean?” the softer voice asked, though it too became hard.

“Think about it. The Temple of Sacred Ashes is engulfed in an explosion that opens a rift to the Fade, and out of it comes out an elf bearing a strange mark. An apostate—another elf comes to us no later than a day, claiming he means no harm and wants to help. But _who_ is he helping, Leliana? Is it us, or—or his _friend_?”

“Cassandra—“

“I’ll have him executed for this treachery! I’ll have them _both_ executed! Where is he? Bring him here!”

“He is making a few more attempts to seal the rifts. We shouldn’t distract him, what if—“

“Bring. Him. _Here_.”

 _‘No.’_ U’Din had no desire to put himself in danger, but the threat of someone dying because of him gave him the courage he needed to open his eyes and turn his head. Two women, shems from what he could tell, were arguing, and he did his best to get their attention, weak as he was.

A woman in a hood noticed him move, and she gasped. “Cassandra! He is awake.”

U’Din gulped, and the forceful sensation made him cough. The discomfort allowed him to ignore the rough handling by two guards, and he barely noticed being bound and forced to his knees.

A light glinted towards him, making him wince. He looked up slowly, lip quivering as he stared up at the most frightening shem he’d ever come across.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, elf,” she began, lip curling in a snarl. She was the scary, harsh voice, he recognized. “Starting with what you were doing at the Conclave.”

 _‘For the clan,’_ he chanted as she struck him, his head bowed in resignation. _‘For the clan.’_

 

* * *

 

He was being paraded like a criminal heading towards the chopping block. It didn’t matter what Cassandra said; he _knew_ that was what she was doing. The crowd of injured and fearful shems glared and spat at him as they passed, and one manic-looking shem even threw rocks at him and called him a filthy knife-ear.

It didn’t matter that Cassandra threatened the man. Or that she promised him a trial and cut the ropes that had bound his wrists together. What mattered was he was going to die, by execution or the great big hole in the sky.

He smiled ruefully. His death had always been inevitable, but he had to admit, this was quite the way to go.

 _‘For the clan,’_ he whispered to himself as a demon sprouted from the rift in the ground. He held the unfamiliar staff tightly, as it helped anchor him to reality. _‘For the clan.’_

 

* * *

 

“Ya know,” the dwarf began conversationally as he surveyed the area around them. The chalky remains of the demons U’Din had fried with his lightning got swept up by the wind, forever lost. “Not that I’m a big fan of demons or anything, but even _I_ thought that was a little overkill. Leave some for the rest of us next time, huh, blondie?”

The Dalish looked worried for a moment. He didn’t want to make enemies with anyone so soon, especially after Cassandra. “I’m sorry. I’ll... control myself better, I promise.” _Don’t be mad, please, I didn’t mean to—_

“Hey, wait a minute, that was a joke! Don’t go all droopy on me now!” The dwarf looked panicked, and if it hadn’t been such an awful day all around, U’Din might have braved a smile. “Seriously, kill all the demons you want, by _all_ means. No one would miss ‘em, trust me.”

“Asking him to overtax himself is out of the question, Master Tethras. We need him at full power,” a newcomer arrived, and U’Din gaped when he realized that it was the like-eared stranger that had been in the prison with him before. He gave U’Din a small smile and inclined his head. “I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries earlier, but given the circumstances, I thought you’d forgive me the offense.”

“It’s all right. I wouldn’t know what to do about the rift, anyway,” U’Din found himself saying. He smiled tentatively at him. “And you helped me, didn’t you? Back when I was unconscious.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” the other elf said, though he didn’t look displeased.

“I don’t remember a lot actually. It’s rather... fuzzy? Like something important was taken away from me,” he muttered the last part, unsure whether he should even be revealing so much without Cassandra around.

“Well, hopefully you still remember your own name, blondie.” The dwarf joined the conversation and flashed him a friendly wink. “Varric Tethras. And this beauty here’s Bianca.”

A brief pause. “You named your crossbow ‘Bianca’.”

“Please do not ask. His tales could outlast any doomsday, and we are running short of time as it is.”

“Aww, Chuckles, you flatter me.”

“If you are all _done_ ,” Cassandra came back from speaking to a scout, and U’Din stood up straighter in response to her presence. “We best meet with Leliana at the forward camp.”

She looked at them one by one, lingering slightly on U’Din before she turned and led the party to the camp. The Dalish released a shuddering breath as he walked, using his staff as a walking stick.

“Are you cold?” He turned to see the like-eared one walking in-step with him, giving him a once-over. “Your attire isn’t meant for the harsh cold of the Frostbacks, it seems. Do you need a warming spell?”

“Ah, no, thank you,” U’Din declined with a wave of his marked hand. “The cold doesn’t bother me. I’m rather resilient to it, in fact. My Keeper says it’s a strong advantage.”

“Indeed? If that is true, then your Keeper is right. However, I wonder if it was wise of them to send you all the way here. A First shouldn’t be so far away from his clan, da’len.”

Something akin to fear, disappointment and _rage_ rippled inside U’Din at the reminder of Ellana, and he scoffed before he could stop himself. At the other elf’s querying gaze, he gave him a smile too bright to be genuine.

“You’re right, hahren. A First shouldn’t be far away from their clan.” He briefly thought of the unfairness of it all, how Ellana must have seen this coming and yet, and _yet_ , “which is just so, since I am not the First.” A First wouldn’t be out here, taking the fall for a crime they did not remember committing, after all. But instead of letting the bitterness take root and fester, he filled his thoughts with half-hearted attempts of reassurance.

 _‘You’re doing it for the clan, U’Din,’_ he told himself. _‘Remember that. For the clan.’_

“Still,” his companion pressed on, though he was frowning contemplatively. “Your people would no doubt miss you, and given the circumstances...”

“It’s all right. I’m nothing special. They’d lose nothing,” U’Din said nonchalantly, concentrating so hard on the trail that he missed the deepening of the other elf’s frown. “And they’re your people, too.”

The other elf laughed. It sounded hollow. Perhaps he was sent here to his death, too. If that was the case, then he and U’Din were kindred spirits. The thought drew him to the older elf, and he moved a little closer, desperate for a companionable presence.

By the time they reached the forward camp, his savior had introduced himself as Solas. He took this information greedily, eager to mix in something positive with the dread and futility warring silently inside him.

 _‘For the clan.’_ He closed the rift the same way his new friend described how. He pulled his fist, and green light burst. _‘Solas.’_

 

* * *

 

The shem priest did not like him. It was not a thought that U’Din mourned, since he was not particularly keen on him either. But he kept his thoughts to himself, even as the bickering of the shems started to grate on his nerves.

His distaste must have shown on his face, since the hooded shem (Leliana, he recalled) turned to him and said, “you look like you have something to say, elf. Care to share what’s on your mind?”

He did. In fact, he had a _lot_ of things to say, starting with why in the World were they arguing when there was a fucking hole in the sky to plug up. But like the clergyman said, he was just a prisoner, so he doubted his opinion would matter to any of them. Even when the Breach throbbed and sent another spark of pain up his arm, he stood his ground, gritting his teeth but otherwise not planning to say anything.

Cassandra, of course, decided to make things difficult for him by talking to him. “All this arguing is getting us nowhere. You, how do _you_ think we should proceed?”

He blinked once, then looked behind him, thinking that she was probably consulting Solas at his back. When the other elf did nothing but stare back at him, he turned back to Cassandra and asked, “Are... you asking me?”

“Who else would I be speaking to? Your survival is crucial to closing the Breach. Since we can’t reach to a consensus, however,” she trailed off, turning around to glare at the Chancellor.

U’Din was panicking. They were asking _him_ to make a decision? Surely there was someone else among them better equipped to make such an important choice. He had the mark, true, but that was it. That didn’t mean anything. _Like being named Second instead of First, despite having more skill and intelligence than Ellana. And being with Mahanon, even if he was never really sure where he stood with him._

He shook his head. Where did all that come from?

With all the expectant looks he was getting, U’Din floundered for an answer. The shems were talking about two routes to the temple, he recalled: charging with the soldiers on a full assault, no holds barred, or a more covert entrance through the mountains, where a group of scouts were reported to have gone missing. He toyed with the idea of just saying _fuck it_ and go with the full assault, but he had no idea how many demons there would be, or how many soldiers were even still alive to do any form of charging. It, however, guaranteed his survival. The mountain path was isolated, and who knew what could be lurking there, if an entire group of scouts had been decimated. U’Din was fairly confident that he could make it if he were desperate enough, but...

Charging with soldiers meant charging with shems. And the shems blamed him for everything, didn’t they?

 _‘If I’m going to die today,’_ he thought as he pointed at the mountain path, ignoring the pleased smile on Varric’s face and the disapproving frown on Cassandra’s. _‘Then it would be for the clan, and not for a mob of angry shems.’_

He felt a foreign presence in his mind give the impression that he just made a terrible mistake. But he ignored it in favor of fighting demons, sticking close to Solas, and surviving.

 

* * *

 

What was that he said about surviving? He must have been in a joking mood. Because the hulking Pride demon that came out of the rift in the Temple? Not a good indicator of his continued existence. Solas had said something about a Pride demon being _fitting_ for some reason, but U’Din thought he was probably just making light of a really fucked up situation. U’Din could relate, at least.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” Varric cursed beside him, shooting at the smaller demons that kept popping out of nowhere—probably from the Pride demon’s arse (his words, not U’Din’s). “What the hell is that thing’s skin made of? Demons shouldn’t be _this_ hard to kill!”

“I’m afraid it has some form of shield surrounding it,” Solas appeared beside them in a mist of blue and heaved, utterly exhausted. “I can’t identify it with so much distractions, but if I were to hazard a guess, we should be able to strip its defenses somehow.”

“Well, _that_ was helpful!” Varric yelled, shooting an approaching, snarling demon in the face.

“Do _you_ have any suggestions, then?” Solas bit back, politeness forgotten in the face of death by demons.

“Here’s one: be _more_ helpful!”

U’Din gritted his teeth as he sent a chain of lightning through a group of demons. The last chain hit the howling Pride demon, and as expected, it barely affected the monster. A spark of his lightning reached the rift, and he was surprised to feel electricity jolt through his palm. Like his mark was connected to the—

He resisted the urge to slap himself. Of _course_. Why didn’t he think of that sooner? He felt like a complete idiot.

“Blondie? Hey, blondie, what are you doing?!”

“Da’len! _Venavis_!”

“Cover for me, please!” he cried, rushing through the recently-spawned demons in a mist of bluish white. He landed near the rift, almost behind the Pride demon and near a frustrated and exhausted Cassandra.

“What are you doing?” she called out, gritting her teeth as she blocked a demon from pouncing on him with her shield.

He held out his hand and concentrated on the rift. A stream of light linked his palm to the rift, and he could feel that its power was connected to the Pride demon somehow. It was very hard to articulate in words, but the brief link he made with the rift made him realize that disrupting it would briefly stagger the hulking demon.

So he did. And the Pride demon fell, long enough for attacks to _finally_ have lasting effect.

Cassandra gasped and turned to him. “Keep doing that! We’ll keep it off of you!”

“Yes! Good thinking, da’len!” Solas nodded, summoning a wall of ice to keep the stragglers away from him.

“All _right_!” Varric cheered from the sidelines, aiming his crossbow up high and making it rain poison and bolts. “Way to go, blondie!”

U’Din frowned and simply nodded, unsure how to handle the praise. “R-Right.”

It took them a few rounds, and a minor setback that arose from the hulking demon being smart for a while, but eventually the Pride demon fell with a defeated howl, and the cheers of the soldiers drowned the entire hall with loudness. Cassandra had to shout really loud for him to get her signal, and he nodded once before linking himself to the rift one last time—and this time, it was to seal it. His body staggered from the exhaustion, but he forced himself to stand his ground. Countless lives depended on him succeeding, and while he doubted the shems would thank him, he did not want their deaths over his head.

As the rift stitched itself closed, his thoughts went to his clan. If he managed to seal this rift, would they be safe? He deeply hoped they would, because this was probably the most significant thing he could ever do for them—for anybody. He wondered what Ellana or Mahanon would have done, if either of them had been in his place instead, but he brushed that thought away. This couldn’t happen to the First, nor the clan’s most talented hunter. They were too important to the clan. He, on the other hand, was just the Second. The back-up mage. The Spare.

 _‘For the clan,’_ he thought as he felt the last traces of energy left him, leaving him breathless and pale and _falling_. His mind registered hitting something, or someone, and garbled words and steely blue eyes. _Solas._

He smiled. What a way to go, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (11/13/2017): Hopefully this is a better narrative than simply "retelling" what happened in the beginning of the game. I'm surprised to realize that my writing style has changed so much, but maybe that's a good thing HAHA.
> 
> \--
> 
> Elvhen:
> 
> U'Din: From U, meaning alone. Din means "not" or "isn't." So I put them together to mean "Not Alone."  
> Shem/Shem'len: Quick, Quicklings/Quick Children. Elvhen term for Humans.  
> Hahren: Elder. A respectful term for older elves. Also a term used to address the leader of an elf alienage.  
> Da'len: Little one/child.  
> Venavis: Stop. (not really canon but well)  
> 


	2. Heroism is a Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choices are made. Not all _by_ choice, but considering the life he's led so far, U'Din can accept that.
> 
>  
> 
> **TW: Suicidal thoughts and past reference to mild interrogative torture.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (11/13/2017): Chapter revised.

_“So, when do I leave?”_

_His reaction was disappointing to Ellana, he could tell. She clenched her jaw and sniffed, nodding curtly. “You could leave at dawn, but it might be better for you to leave by tonight. The meeting won’t start in two weeks time, though the distance between here and the Temple of Sacred Ashes is great.”_

_U’Din nodded in understanding. “I see. I shall leave for tonight, then. Allow me to say goodbye to the children, and I’ll be off.” The Second started walking away, making a mental list of things to bring with him on his journey to the Frostbacks. He also might need to tell Mahanon about this too, and considering the current awkwardness between them, he wasn’t looking forward to that at all._

_“U’Din.”_

_He turned around and looked at her, wondering what else she wanted. She opened her mouth to speak, looking somewhat vulnerable for a moment. But whatever she wanted to say, she let it go, and the harsh arrogance returned to mar her pretty features._

_“Whatever you do, don’t fail.”_

 

* * *

 

Once again, U’Din woke up in a strange place, though this time there was enough light for him to see shapes and colors filling his vision. He wondered, briefly, if he was finally dead, finally succumbing to his sickness, and if this was the afterlife that the hahrens in his clan would wistfully talk about. But he doubted that he was that lucky, and a supposed elven afterlife wouldn’t really have paintings of shems hung on the walls, would it? 

Alarmed, he lifted himself up from the bed. He winced slightly, feeling quite sore on his left side. U’Din ran a hand through his hair, but he stopped halfway when his palm started to tingle from touching his scalp. Eyebrows furrowed, he inspected his hand.

Green.

The mark on his palm sparked once, then receded to a simple glow. Looking closer, he noticed that the center was misty, and that green clouds were spinning around each other. Almost like—

The Breach.

U’Din jumped off of the bed and opened a nearby window, leaning over to inspect the sky. The swirling rift remained in the sky, yet it wasn’t shooting out debris like it did before. In fact, it looked quite... serene, in a morbid way.

He looked at his mark again and frowned. Wasn’t he supposed to have sealed it away? Since it was still in the sky, did that mean he failed?

_Failure. You’re nothing but a failure._

He clenched his marked fist and let out a resigned sigh. So, he failed to seal the Breach—now wasn’t that just  _typical_ of him? If Ellana had been here, she would no doubt go on a tirade about how useless he was. If it had been her with the strange mark, she would have sealed it completely, oh, there would be no doubt about that at all.  _She_  was the First, after all, while he was just _a measly, pathetic_   _Second_ —

_Crash!_

“Ah!”

He turned around at the cry, and he was surprised to see an elf standing near the doorway. She was whimpering and shaking her wrist, looking fearfully down at the box that looked singed at one side.

“Are you all right?” he asked, going over to her side immediately.

“Y-Yes, I’m all right. But I don’t know what happened—it just felt like I was shocked,” she answered breathily, rubbing at her shaking wrist.

U’Din felt his stomach drop. Shocked? Swallowing, he reached out for her hand. “May I?”

She nodded dumbly and allowed him to grasp her hand. With practiced grace, he wove healing magic from the invisible fabric of the Fade and laid it out onto her skin. She gasped at the sensation, watching as the slight burn and shaking disappeared within seconds.

“There,” U’Din said, stepping away to give her space. “How does it feel?”

“It’s—It’s better. T-Thank you!” she whispered, staring down at her healed wrist in awe.

“Don’t mention it, really. I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said apologetically, wincing a little. He couldn’t believe he lost control of his temper again. If his Keeper found out, she’d keep him cooped up in the tent again with nothing to do but read and meditate. To keep him _calm_.

She looked confused for a moment, as if wondering what he could be sorry for, but suddenly her eyes widened, and she stared at him in horror. Before he could ask her what was wrong, the woman fell on her knees and bowed.

U’Din drew back. “Uh—“

“Forgive me for forgetting my place, my lord! A-And for not knocking before entering. I didn’t realize that you’ve wakened!”

Her panic transferred to him. What in the World? He tried stepping closer, but she just hunched even more when he did so he backed away. U’Din felt so distressed; what was he supposed to do?

“Don’t be scared, please,” he tried miserably, waving his hands in front of him. “You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t doing anything wrong. In fact, it was I who—”

“But it isn’t proper!” She looked up briefly, then bowed her head back down. “I’m but a servant. I should have knocked first.”

U’Din froze at the word.  _Servant_. Something about the term summoned all sorts of emotions inside him—discomfort, fear, and even anger. Where the last one came from he wasn’t sure, because the concept  _had_  been taught to him before. Because she was an elven servant. Shems had elven servants.

 _Slaves_ , something hissed in his mind in disgust. He willed it away.

“M-My lord?” she asked hesitantly, looking up at him. Her stare lingered on him when she realized that he wasn’t looking, but she bowed her head again when he turned back to her.

“Nothing, it’s—it’s  _fine_. And please don’t call me that. I’m not a lord, lethallan, just another elf like you.”

“Oh, there’s no way you’re just another elf, my lord! After all, you saved us!” she exclaimed, awe in her voice. “The Breach stopped growing when you did what you did, and so did your mark. Everyone talked about it for  _days_!”

“ _Days_?” he gasped. His eyes shifted to the bed. “So how long was I...?”

“Three days, my lord. You were unconscious for three days.”

 _Three days?_  He was out for that long? The Dalish elf groaned, wondering what had happened while he was asleep. Were they preparing for a trial now? The angry one, Cassandra, did say that he was going to be given one. He’ll be judged, then the shems would find some way to incriminate him and have him killed. Hanged, beheaded, stabbed, which is it? The thought made his heart beat painfully fast. He knew he was due to die soon, but not like this. Not by the hands of _shems_.

He needed to run. It was ludicrous to think that he’d be able to escape the shems, but if he did it now while no one knew he was awake yet, he’ll have a head start. He would go somewhere the shems wouldn’t be able to find him, maybe his clan in the Free Marches could protect him—

He stopped that train of thought and froze. The clan?

Looking down at the glowing mark on his hand, he thought about how such a thing would be difficult to hide. A glove would do the job, he supposed, but it sparked every now and then. It might even burn through the material. People would see, then people would talk. They would point the shems to him, to his clan, and when they do that, they’ll probably—

U’Din shook his head. No.  _No_. He would  _not_ lead the shems to the clan. That would just put his clansmen in unnecessary danger, and this was  _his_ problem, his fault. The best he could do now was to have all the blame pinned on him and receive judgment. All for the good of the clan.

He closed his eyes and steeled himself. For the good of the clan.  _Do it for the good of the clan, U’Din._

He noticed the other elf standing up and babbling something, so he looked at her, making her squeak. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said. What was that?”

“Err—“ the servant began, rubbing her hands together nervously. “I was, um, just saying that Lady Cassandra would probably want to hear that you’ve wakened. She did say  _at once_ , after all.”

U’Din felt his gut clench at that, but he calmed himself down and remembered his duty to the clan. He would protect them, no matter the cost. Nodding once, he approached her, ignoring the way she shrunk when he was right beside her.

“I’ll come with you,” he said to her, rubbing at his chest. He felt the strange material on his person and frowned, looking down and realizing that he was wearing different clothes. Huh. What an odd prisoner garb.

“You’re coming with  _me_?” She hesitated, as if finding the thought of him walking alongside her an outlandish thought.

He nodded, scowling. “Yeah. Might as well get this over with, yes?”

Ignoring the quizzical look on the servant’s face, he walked past her and opened the door. The crowd of shems gathered in front of the little hut caught him off guard, but he steeled himself quickly. Shems had this fascination with watching executions, right? That was probably it.

With a deep breath, he asked the other elf to lead the way and silently followed her to the Chantry. The sooner this was done, the better.

 

* * *

 

“And so the elf shows himself!” Chancellor Roderick exclaimed upon his entrance, leveling him an accusatory gaze. He turned to the armored men standing guard before U’Din could even groan at the sight of him. “Arrest this criminal! He is to be taken to Val Royeaux where the grand clerics will decide his fate!”

Well, that was fast. The shems definitely didn’t waste time. U’Din sighed and waited to be hauled out of the room and onto a cart. Or were they going to throw him in a sack? He would have laughed at the image formed in his head if the situation had been much different. Either way, he was going to die, no matter how he got to the trial.

But Cassandra defied his expectations with a wave of a hand, “Ignore him. Leave us.”

U’Din heard armor clanking behind him, and he watched with mild fascination as the templars left through the door and shut it closed. He turned his head back, watching quietly as the shems continued to argue.

His eyes shifted to the other shem, Leliana, and she turned to look at him. She smiled lightly and beckoned him closer, and, after a moment of befuddlement, U’Din nodded and obediently approached the table. When the two arguing shems settled into a quiet glaring contest, he cleared his throat to get their attention.

“I was told you wanted to see me, so here I am,” he said to Cassandra, turning his wary eyes to her.

“Yes. Thank you for coming. It is good to see that you’re well; when you lost consciousness after sealing that rift, we expected the worst,” she said, her voice soft and unlike the way she was talking to the cleric (and yelling at him before). She even sounded concerned, almost, though he refused to believe it.

U’Din cleared his throat and nodded. “I apologize for imposing, and for not being able to seal the rift. If I knew it would take that much energy, I would have—“

“Strange how you’re apologizing for something you possibly intended!” the cleric interjected, pointing a finger at him. “Just because you helped out once doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. You’re still a suspect, which is why I’m curious we’re not sending you off to your execution!”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the cleric, but he averted his gaze before the man could incriminate him even more. Part of him wanted to say that he had nothing to do with it. Or, at least, he had no recollection of ever causing the explosion in the first place. But U’Din knew that the man wouldn’t listen to him, so he just stayed quiet and waited to be taken wherever the trial would take place.

 _‘Please,’_  he thought desperately in his head.  _‘Just get this over with, stupid shems. I want to die in peace.’_

“Do not speak to him that way, Chancellor. He is _not_ a suspect.”

“ _What_?” The question echoed in the small room, since both the Chancellor _and_ U’Din voiced it.

“You heard me. He is not a suspect. Not anymore,” Cassandra responded, not at all fazed by their incredulity. “He has proven to be an innocent, and we are looking for possible suspects elsewhere.”

“Have you gone completely _mad_?” was the Chancellor’s query. U’Din nodded beside him, equally questioning her sanity.

“On the contrary, I’ve never been more sensible in my life. It was foolish of me to cast the blame onto our friend so quickly,” she said, looking genuinely regretful. When her eyes met U’Din’s, the elf tried not to squirm. “I do apologize. Perhaps I can make it up to you in some way.”

U’Din blinked slowly, not betraying the horror and hysteria building up steadily inside him.

This was... not what he had in mind. What in the World was going on?

The shems continued to argue, but he wasn’t listening anymore. All he could do was wonder what went wrong, what caused Cassandra’s change of heart. From what he learned from the elven servant, she said he had been asleep for three days. What in the World happened in those three days that led to _this_?

“So you’re saying that his survival, that unholy mark on his hand,” the Chancellor said loudly, pulling him back to reality. “It’s all just one lucky coincidence?”

“Not coincidence, Chancellor. This is too perfect to be just coincidence. No, it’s not that,” came Cassandra’s confident reply. “It’s fate. Divine intervention! I believe the Maker Himself sent him to us.”

U’Din let out a disbelieving cough. _Wow_. Now he was really certain that she _had_ gone crazy.

Cassandra turned to him and glared. “And _what_ is so funny?”

He took a few steps back and hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just—did you really just say that your Maker sent me? To you?”

“Yes,” she said so self-assuredly that it threw U’Din off. “Everyone at the temple saw what you did—how you weakened the demon and closed the rift with your mark. They, as well as I, believe that you were sent to us to help, and that mark was bestowed upon you by the Maker.”

“You’re serious. You actually _really_ believe that,” he noted quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And why would I not? Are you saying that you _did_ cause the explosion at the Conclave?”

“And if I did deny causing it? Why would you even believe me?” U’Din threw back, and his violet eyes flashed briefly as he let a bit of his anger seep through. “You never believed me back then, when you were interrogating me. I told you I didn’t know anything about the mark, and you hit me. You called me a liar, a murderer. Why should I expect anything different now?”

The stunned look on the woman’s face gave U’Din such a vindictive sort of satisfaction that it surprised him. He never spoke back to anyone like this in his clan before, and he never expected to do it to a scary shem like Cassandra. He would regret it later, for sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

_Temper, U’Din—_

_Oh, shut up!_

“I... understand your distrust. Believe me, if I could go back and change the way I treated you, I would,” Cassandra said after a moment of awkward silence. She took in a deep breath and met his gaze determinedly. “You probably have no idea, but you... did me a service when you tried to help the Divine. That alone convinced me that you _cannot_ be the perpetrator, no matter what anyone says.”

U’Din wanted to say that he had no recollection of ever offering that woman any help (any attempt at remembering made his head hurt), but he smartly kept his mouth shut. The Chancellor scoffed, shaking his head at her admission.

“Visions can be doctored, Seeker. He is a mage, is he not? How are you sure he did not manipulate anything in there? And that other apostate—the elf. He could have done something, as well. For all we know, they could have done this _together_.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said resolutely, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why?” U’Din found himself asking, really confused and upset by everything. This was not part of the plan. He was supposed to die from execution or trying to seal the Breach. Since the latter failed, he had relied on the trial and subsequent death sentence to liberate him. Even if death scared the shit out of him, at least... _at least_.

He stared at his right hand, bandaged tight; an annoying reminder of the inevitable. He clenched his fists.

Even if he was afraid of death, death by execution would have been _his choice_.

“I told you. I made a mistake when I quickly accused you of committing the crime. I had no proof, after all, but I had been so... desperate to find someone to take the blame. Fury blinded me, and for that I am truly sorry.” Cassandra paused for a moment, frowning in regret. “And, despite having everything pit against you, you had made no move to escape or flee, and you even obeyed commands and helped. The very fact that you didn’t escape when you woke up this morning also speaks volumes of your innocence. I promise, on my honor, to repay you for your kindness to the Divine, and to make up for the wrongs that I’ve done towards you.”

“Provided he _is_ innocent,” the Chancellor muttered snidely.

“So what happens now, then? Am I free to go?” U’Din asked, ignoring the Chancellor. He hoped he was free. He wanted to go home, if his clan still wanted anything to do with him after all this.

“I’m afraid we cannot allow that,” Leliana spoke, and U’Din jumped at her voice. He had forgotten all about her. “Your presence is necessary now. You’re the only one who can seal the rifts, and your cooperation would be instrumental to our success.”

“Success? In what?”

In reply, Cassandra brought out a thick tome and placed it on top of the table.

The Chancellor’s eyes widened, and he started sputtering. “That’s—“

“You know what this means, Chancellor. As of this moment, the Inquisition is reborn. We will do what is necessary to close the Breach and restore order—“

“That is not for you to decide!”

“On the contrary, this writ from the Divine says exactly that,” Cassandra replied easily, unperturbed by the indignation on the man’s face. “And we will do all of that and more, with or _without_ your approval.”

“You’re _fools_ ,” the Chancellor snarled, looking between the two women and the lone elf. His gaze was hateful and distrusting as it lingered on U’Din. “You’re all fools!”

U’Din watched as the priest left the room in a huff. After a moment, he turned his wary gaze towards the book, as if expecting a monster to come out of it and eat him whole. He looked at the shems and asked, “so I take it this book is important, then?”

“Yes. It is the Divine’s directive: if the Conclave failed, the Inquisition would be reborn, and we would rally those who are willing to stand against the chaos,” Leliana explained. Then her tone became unsure. “But with our lack of numbers, resources, and Chantry support, I fear our work may be cut out for us.”

“But we must  _try_ ,” Cassandra said firmly, and then she looked straight at U’Din. “With  _you_  by our side.”

He furrowed his brows at her and asked, “Me? What do I have to do with this?”

Cassandra sighed tiredly. The hooded shem seemed more patient than the Seeker was, so she decided to answer U’Din herself. “Like I said before, you are the only one who can seal rifts. And if we are to close the Breach, it is important that you remain and fight alongside us.”

His jaw slackened. Of all the... these shems were planning to use him! He wished he could say that he wasn’t surprised, but their talk of _repaying_ and _making it up to him_ had him thinking they were going to allow him to go home.

It was foolish of him to hope. He should have known.

“I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to fight.” _Not for you_ was left unsaid, and he stared at them intently. “I want nothing to do with this, and I am no soldier. I’m—I’ll be useless to you. Please, let me just go _home_.”

“How could you be useless? You have the power to seal the rifts! And I saw you fight demons. You may not be a soldier, but you are a _fighter_.”

“No, I’m not. I’m—I’m a _healer_. An apprentice to a craftswoman. A measly _Second_. Not a fighter, _never a fighter_.”

“Then you will learn to fight. You are a natural out there, and nothing you say will change what I saw.”

U’Din swallowed, very disturbed. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but fighting demons, letting his magic run wild—it felt spectacular. It reminded him of that time with the great bear, the one that he killed by himself. But Mahanon had looked at him like _he_ was the monster meant to be killed, and then—he drew in a shuddering breath and held on to his bandaged elbow.

No. Never again. _Never_.

“You said you would repay me. Make it up to me,” U’Din began after a moment’s silence. He turned to Cassandra, his violet eyes flashing. “Then make good on that promise. Let me go.”

Cassandra looked pained. “You know I cannot do that. We really _do_ need you here, and sending you away is going to do more harm than good. You have no idea how—“

“I knew it. You were lying,” U’Din smiled sardonically. “You promised me a trial, but now there’s none. You promised to make it up to me, but you won’t give me the one thing that I want.”

“You’re still on about the trial? I told you, you are no longer a suspect! Why do you insist on a trial?” Cassandra asked incredulously.

“You seem awfully eager to die, elf,” Leliana noted, torn between suspicion and concern. 

He made a small noise and shook his head. “I just don’t understand why you would throw away all that suspicion after I helped out once. Like what that priest said.”

“Pay the Chancellor no mind. He is... confused.”

“Well, he’s not the only one, that’s for sure.”

Cassandra gave him an odd look, and for a moment it looked like she wanted to say something. But a quick glance at Leliana changed her mind. Instead, she said, “I realize that this is overwhelming, and even unfair, but this is for the greater good. The Breach may have stopped spreading, but it is still a threat. We can’t afford to ignore it.”

U’Din bit his lip and sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never—I’m just a Second. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never killed people. I don’t...” he trailed off, unwilling to voice his fears to a pair of strange shems.

“You won’t be alone. We’ll help you along the way,” Leliana reassured him, voice soft and kind. She really did have a lovely voice, he thought. “The rifts have spread throughout Thedas, and it would take a large amount of resources and time to get to all of them. But we’re confident that we can restore order, as long as—“

“Hang on,” U’Din interrupted, eyes wide as he absorbed what she just said. “Did you just say that the rifts have spread throughout _Thedas_? As in... everywhere?”

“Now you see why we are so desperate for your help?” Cassandra asked with a sigh, relieved that he was seeing the urgency now. “We’ve received several reports of smaller rifts appearing sporadically across the continent in the past few days. It is most likely a side-effect of the Breach’s existence, or it may be a separate occurrence altogether. Regardless, it means that we have to act before it’s too late.”

U’Din’s eyes widened in horror, and the reality of his situation began to set in. It had been foolish to assume that he could simply walk away, especially after he was given such a strange power. And being the only one who could close the rifts, U’Din was practically _obligated_ to help.

His gut clenched at the pressure, making him feel sick. He looked at the mark on his hand and wondered what he had done to deserve this awful fate, this huge responsibility. A very large part of him still wanted to refuse, to say that it wasn’t _his_ duty to—

Duty.

_“Whatever you do, don’t fail.”_

He drew in a deep breath and walked towards an empty chair to take a seat. He was about to make his biggest mistake yet, so he might as well make sure the shock doesn’t overwhelm him. He looked up at the two shems, who looked expectant and confused, before nodding and smiling resignedly.

“All right, I’ll help. I don’t know what an elf like me can do for shems like you, but if Thedas is in danger, I can’t really say no, can I?” He tried not to fidget and show how nervous he was, which grew twofold when the shems visibly relaxed in relief.

“Thank you. We’ll do our best to prepare you for your role. I’m sure you’d do very well, despite your concerns.” Leliana stood in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and he tried not to squirm under the pressure.

“Believe me, there are a lot,” he joked self-deprecatingly.

“Welcome to the Inquisition,” Cassandra smiled at him—and it was her first real smile, one that wasn’t tainted by guilt or regret or grief. She held out her hand for him to shake. “Herald of Andraste.”

He paused mid-shake and stared at her. “Herald of _what_?”

 

* * *

 

“The chosen of Andraste. The blessed hero to save us all.”

“Feh. _Hero_.” U’Din snorted at the thought and held the blanket closer to himself, edging his toes closer to the fire. “Do I get to ride on a shining steed, at least? I doubt a halla can carry me to victory, and I refuse to break the poor thing’s back by trying.”

The sarcasm in his voice seemed to amuse the one who spoke, if the low chuckle was anything to go by. “Truthfully, a griffon would make a much grander impact. They are extinct, sadly.” The newcomer sat beside him, staring into the fire. “Joking aside, you must be prepared. People will be scrutinizing your every move, even more so since you are not human. I advise you to choose your actions and words wisely from now on.”

The blond turned to glare at the newcomer for the not-so-subtle jab at his race, but he froze when he recognized the man’s face. He scooted away from the other elf, bowing and apologizing.

“Hahren! I had no idea it was you! I apologize for being rude,” U’Din said. He felt so embarrassed; how could he have forgotten about Solas? The wise, older elf who knew so much from his travels as a lone elf mage? U’Din would have envied him if he wasn’t so busy being awed.

Solas looked at him strangely at first, but then smiled at U’Din reassuringly. “It is perfectly all right. I’m certain you had a lot to absorb and think about after what happened. And so soon after you’ve just wakened.”

“So you’ve heard about it.” The elf turned back to the fire, honestly glad that he was with someone who didn’t put him on edge for once. After learning all about that “Herald of Andraste” business, U’Din couldn’t seem to relax around anyone. Especially the shems. “It was a lot to take in, hahren. I don’t really know what’s expected of me, actually.”

“You’ve been proclaimed Herald, therefore it should be obvious what they expect you to be.”

“And what is that? Some kind of  _blessed hero_ , like you said?”

“Every war has its heroes, da’len,” the older elf replied gently, taking a stick from the ground to stoke the fire. He turned to U’Din and smiled at him. “What kind will  _you_  be, I wonder.”

 _A dead one, probably._ U’Din looked down at his bandaged hand and sighed. “I really don’t know about being a hero, hahren. I’m not like that. I mean, I’m not really good at anything but following orders, so I guess that’s what I’ll do. Until Lady Cassandra decides to have my head chopped off, after all.”

“You still think you’ll be executed?” Solas queried.

“Well, yes? I mean, Lady Cassandra said everyone at Haven thinks I was plucked out of my clan by the Maker to be their Herald or something, but not _everyone_  thinks that. Chancellor Roderick hates me, and I don’t think the Chantry’s thrilled about me either.”

“So it’s lack of faith in the Chantry, then,” the hedge mage supplied.

“Yes, among other things,” U’Din said, staring at his hand.

Solas hummed, tapping his chin. “You and I have the same fears, after all. My situation here is just as precarious, even though I had approached the humans and offered my services with no ill intention.”

U’Din shifted his eyes to look at him. “What do you mean? Are they treating you badly, hahren?”

Solas had a strange smile on his face. “Oh, don’t get me wrong; Cassandra has been accommodating, but you should understand that as an elven apostate like yourself, I also have reason to fear. Yet, despite these fears, I choose to stay, for if nothing is done, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

U’Din’s eyes widened before dropping to the floor in shame. Here he was, moping about how he was pressured into joining the Inquisition when Solas had offered to help out of genuine concern for everyone. As for him, well, he had to be told that other people were in danger before helping.

“You’re... very brave, hahren. And noble.” The corner of his lips quirked up, making him look almost cynical. He ducked his head and kicked at the ground. “I wish I could be half of what you are.”

“No one is born brave or noble, da’len,” came Solas’ reply. He gazed into the fire, stormy eyes turning into a red-orange blaze. “We are what we choose to be. Thus, it is our choices—not the blood in our veins or the shape and size of our ears—that truly make us who we are.”

U’Din let the wise words wash over him, unable to disagree with the truth in Solas’ statement. But looking down at his hands (one bandaged, one marked), he thought how he cannot simply disregard his faults and predispositions. He was raised and taught to live and die for his clan—the latter unfortunately being delayed. U’Din was never meant to venture out and fall into the hands of an organization that wished to bring peace to the World. Stuff like that only happened to strong types like Mahanon or level-headed types like Ellana. Not to failures like him. That wasn’t the way things worked.

And yet, here he was. Him, not Mahanon or Ellana— _him_. Now, U’Din did not believe in providence or fate or any of that pre-destiny crap, but...

“Hey, hahren,” U’Din began after a long silence, and he waited for Solas to turn towards him before continuing, “I... can’t say that I’m certain that nothing wrong will happen to either of us, but if you find yourself in a horrible situation, I...”

“You?” Solas urged, curious and interested in his words.

“I’ll,” U’Din paused, “I’ll do my best to help everyone. I’ll seal every rift I see, and I’ll protect everyone for as long as I’m able. And I’ll protect you, too. I won’t allow them to hurt you, and I’ll do whatever I can to help when you need it, hahren. I promise.”

“You would make such a promise for a complete stranger?” Solas sounded dubious.

“Yes,” U’Din nodded, eyes showing his determination. “Because I choose to.”

“...Thank you.” Solas looked humbled, but also seemed pleased. U’Din found that he liked that Solas was pleased. “Such sentiment was not necessary, but I appreciate it, da’len.”

The blond flashed the other elf a small smile, the first real one he made since the beginning of this mess. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, content with just sitting next to the older elf. Fear and uncertainty still lingered deep inside him, but like the small fire in front of him, a small hope burned amidst all the darkness.

He didn’t know how to be a hero, but perhaps he could still choose to be. After all, he was sitting next to someone who was doing just that.


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U'Din loses a bit of resolve before finding it again. Solas himself makes a very great find.
> 
>  
> 
> **TW: Self-loathing.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (11/15/2017): Chapter revised.

The Herald of Andraste was missing.

Or, at least, everyone in Haven seemed to think so. It had been a couple of hours since they last saw the Dalish, and the last person to have seen him had been the healer, Adan. He said something about missing notes, and the Herald had kindly agreed to search for them.

“Biggest help I’ve had in the last few days,” he had grumbled, mixing a batch of healing potions and salves. “And I just needed some elfroot. _Elfroot_.”

He also made a snide comment about making sick people work, sending the Seeker a small glare over his shoulder. That small piece of news understandably worried Cassandra. She had no idea he was still sick!

“Aye, he was bandaged something fierce when I took a good look at ‘im,” he had revealed, frowning. “You should probably have someone more qualified to look at him. Especially for those wounds of his.”

“Wounds?” she asked, momentarily perplexed. Then it came to her. “You mean on his right hand? I thought he acquired that from fighting demons.”

“No, ‘tis an old wound. Years old, from what I could gleam. And there’s one on his shoulder, elbow and stomach.” The alchemist paused his mixing and gave her a rather grave look. “They were... strange. _Really_ strange. Don’t seem to heal properly, they don’t. I’d have him looked over if I were you.”

And Cassandra fully intended to do just that. Just as soon as they found him, of course, because the Herald was _nowhere to be seen_.

“Are you sure you looked _everywhere_?” Varric asked, watching in mild amusement as Cassandra paced in front of the gates like a concerned mother. The image made him stifle a snort of laughter. “Bah, I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure he’s just gathering materials for the alchemist. And for himself. Seemed liked the craftsy kind of guy.”

“We can’t just _assume_ that, Varric. Adan said he was _sick_. He shouldn’t be out there doing chores!” she growled, clenching and unclenching her fist in time with each step. “I told him to come find me right after he’s done introducing himself to our quartermaster. But now he’s missing! Who knows where he could have gone?”

“Hey, take it easy,” the dwarf tried to placate her, but the underlying mockery in his tone just made her angrier.

“Don’t tell me to _take it easy_. We can’t afford to do that! There are rifts out there, and I need the Herald to be properly briefed about his role!”

“And he _will_ be, Seeker. When he gets back. I’m really sure that he’s nearby on an errand. Willow doesn’t seem the type to just run away, you know?”

“I don’t know about that,” Cassandra said, shaking her head in frustration and worry. “He’s never wanted to stay. And I _did_ treat him quite unfairly before. I’m very certain that he’s afraid of me.”

“Who isn’t afraid of you?” Varric asked rhetorically. He ignored the flat look Cassandra gave him and continued, “I still think he’s still around. He’s a skittish guy, true, but he’s got a heart. I saw him yesterday helping out the servants. Some idiot mistook him for one of them, though, and he—“

“ _What_.” Cassandra stalked over to him, face set in a scowl that promised retribution.

“Yeah, Willow freaked out a bit. Had this really _hurt_ face and all, and I could swear his ears drooped. Made me think of a willow tree, which is where I—“

“Who was it? One of the mothers? The soldiers? I demand to know!”

Cassandra grabbed Varric by the shoulders and started shaking him, and the dwarf was so stupefied that he didn’t try to shake her off. The two were so engrossed in their (rather one-sided) argument that they didn’t notice a pair of large dark eyes watching them, before shifting in the direction of the destroyed temple.

A moment later, the eyes vanished in a cloud of white smoke.

 

* * *

 

Solas stepped over the burnt corpse as he entered the temple. He ran his hand over the walls, melted by the explosion and overwhelmed by green veins, and sent a pulse of magic through the stone. He closed his eyes and listened, ears twitching when his magic fluctuated.

Someone was here, and he had an idea as to who it was.

Relaxing a bit, the hedge mage approached the balcony and peered down. True enough, a certain blond Dalish was exploring the area where they had battled the Pride demon, looking very much at ease despite the ambient foreign magic around him. Solas cocked his head to the side as the Dalish focused on a throbbing vein of red lyrium; posture alert but otherwise unbothered by its malevolent aura.

Interesting.

With the swiftness of a rogue, Solas jumped down, intent on revealing himself to the Herald.

“You shouldn’t get too close,” he advised, smiling slightly when the other elf stiffened before turning to him. He inclined his head in greeting. “Corrupted lyrium is very different from regular lyrium. Its properties are unknown, but theorized to be deadly. Mages shouldn’t try using it.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” the blond said, turning to stare a bit more at the vein. He shivered and approached Solas. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. Something... drew me in, I supposed.”

Solas frowned in concern. “Drew you in? Perhaps you’ve been standing here for too long, da’len. I recommend leaving the area immediately. If you’re being influenced—”

“Oh, nothing like that! I was actually avoiding it earlier, but I just went a little closer just now because I thought I heard something.”

“Heard something? Like what?”

“I don’t know. Kind of like voices? I feel like it’s possessed, somehow. Don’t you hear the whispering?”

Solas’ frown deepened at the question, and he tried to make it look more like he was concerned than perplexed. He made a show of straining his ears to catch the supposed whispering, but in truth, Solas had no need to do such a thing.

One had no need to hear what one already knew intimately well, after all.

“Perhaps you are on to something,” he said after a while. “However, if it is indeed possessed, then all the more reason for you to stay away from it. Red lyrium is not something one should toy with.”

“As if I want to do anything with _that_ ,” the Herald sneered, and it looked so out of place on the blond’s face that Solas couldn’t help but stare. He, too, seemed to have noticed his strange behavior, judging by the subsequent confusion on his face.

“I see.” Solas settled with a smile, pausing for a moment before saying, “now that we’ve established the dangers of red lyrium, I can finally ask you what you’re doing here. Cassandra is tearing up Haven trying to look for you.”

He froze briefly at the mention of the Seeker, and Solas wondered what Cassandra had done to make the Herald so jumpy around her. Soon he looked guilty, peering at Solas through his blond hair. “I’m sorry. Did they send you to look for me? I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just wanted to be alone for a moment.”

“No, I actually came here to study the ambient magic left by the rift’s sealing. The more we know about the Breach’s magic, the better,” he fibbed. Truthfully, he came here to look for his orb, naive as the thought was. He looked at the Herald’s marked hand almost enviously. “Finding you here was just a pleasant side benefit.”

The Herald made an amused sound at that, and Solas was surprised to find it rather attractive. He gave the blond a subtle once over, noting that the other elf was quite good-looking, now that he was clean and properly dressed. His lack of typical Dalish arrogance was another point in his favor too, and the hedge mage found himself quite charmed.  _‘A great find,’_ he told himself.

Which was a shame, all things considered.

“You’re lucky, hahren. What I wouldn’t give to be stuck with research. It sounds so much more interesting than being the Herald of Andraste. Or a knife-ear with a bucket and mop.” He made a face before sighing. “I came here to clear my head after retrieving the notes for ser Adan, but I suppose that was rather selfish of me, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Solas replied neutrally. He too had been mistaken for a servant a few times by the humans, so he understood the Dalish’s frustrations very well. Still, “you shouldn’t let your emotions rule you. Being unable to handle a few insults and careless assumptions would only serve as a hindrance, and as the Herald of Andraste, you have a reputation to uphold.”

And Solas wasn’t going to let the blond ruin Solas’ plans just because someone hurt his _feelings_ , no matter how attractive he was. He would learn, Solas knew, but he had to learn _now_.

“We best head back. Cassandra would no doubt send a search party, and I doubt you’d want to cause such a spectacle.”

“Yes. Right. Um, I’m really sorry,” he said, bowing his head as he followed Solas out of the temple. “I just really needed to clear my head. I’ve a very bad temper, you see, and it’s awful if I get too angry. My Keeper orders me to read and meditate, but truly, what calms me is just a pleasant afternoon playing my—“

“Yes?” Solas prompted after the Herald stopped abruptly. He had a panicked look on his face, making Solas frown in concern. “What is it?”

“My ocarina. My journals.” His wide eyes turned to Solas. “My _satchel_. They have my satchel!”

The last word echoed in the temple as the Herald vanished in a mist of blue and white. Solas stared after him, stunned, and maybe a little impressed. Magical travel is tricky on uneven terrain, and the blond managed to jump over the levels without apparent difficulty.

 _‘At least he is useful,’_ Solas thought, smiling. He looked around the temple and squinted. _‘Now, if I were an orb of destruction...’_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, look who’s back! Knew you hadn’t run out on us,” Varric greeted him with a grin, blinking in confusion when U’Din just passed by without acknowledging him. “Uh, are you—“

“Can’t talk. Missing satchel. Need to find it,” he explained succinctly, running towards a pile of boxes and looking around. He opened a barrel and dumped his head in. A moment later, he realized he had been rude, so he raised a hand and waved in the dwarf’s general direction. “Hi, ser Tethras!”

“Hello there?” Varric responded unsurely, mouth quirked up to one side as he watched U’Din throw out junk from the barrel. He stared at an ore of obsidian a second longer than the dwarf thought healthy before putting it down gently next to the barrel. “So where’ve you been? The Seeker’s _this close_ to ripping her hair out looking for you. It’s hilarious, but don’t tell her I told you that.”

“I won’t,” he promised distractedly, putting back all the useless junk in the barrel. The ores were then placed in an empty sack he looted from... somewhere. “I was out, searching for the notes ser Adan was looking for. Oh—can you please give this to him? I would, but I’m looking for something important right now.”

“Sure thing, Willow,” Varric agreed easily, taking the notes from U’Din and pocketing them. He eyed the blond as he went from sack to box to barrel. “So. What _are_ you looking for, anyway? Finally realized that there’s a big hole in the sky and wanted some answers? Well, you’re not gonna find any there. I just went through that pile.”

“I’m looking for my satchel,” U’Din responded, frowning after going through the last barrel in the pile. He looked over his shoulder and found more barrels near the tavern, and he dragged the heavy sack of ore towards it, Varric in tow. “I brought it with me here, and it has a lot of important items inside. My father’s journals, some salve, and an ocarina that belonged to my mother. I had a staff with me too, but it’s not as important as the satchel and what’s inside. If I lost it, I don’t—“

“Calm down, Willow, no need to freak out on me,” Varric gently pulled him away from opening another barrel, and he patted the heaving blond’s arm comfortingly. “Hey. We’ll find this satchel of yours. Maybe the Seeker has it. Or even Nightingale.”

“You think so?” U’Din tried not to hope too much, but the contents of that satchel were very important to him. He’d even claim they were worth more than his life, because some of those items had belonged to his parents before they died. If he lost them, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Varric nodded. “ _Positive_. Rogue’s honor.”

“...Rogues don’t have honor,” U’Din pointed out, scowling a little. “Are you making fun of me?”

“What? Why in the World would I do that? To a ray of sunshine like you?” He blinked innocently. When U’Din gave him a flat look and started pulling away, he laughed and said, “oh, come on, I was just teasing, Willow. I’ll help you find your satchel. On _my_ honor.”

“Willow?” he repeated, unsure why the dwarf kept using that word. He blinked when it hit him. “Wait, is that what you’re calling me?”

“Well, yeah. You need a name, and you didn’t exactly give one.” Varric looked thoughtful for a moment and eyed him. “What _is_ your name, anyway?”

U’Din blinked owlishly. Huh, he supposed he never did give his name. It didn’t seem important when they first met, considering he had been sure he’d be dead by the end of the day, anyway. He opened his mouth to give his name, but a loud call from behind made him freeze in fear.

“Herald! Where in the Maker’s name have you _been_?”

“L-Lady Cassandra,” he began timidly upon seeing her, yelping when she grabbed him by the collar of his robe and pulled. “W-Wait! Please let me explain—“

“I’ll listen to your excuses later, Herald,” she said testily, making U’Din shut his mouth. “But we are running out of time. The advisors have gathered in the War Room to discuss our next move, and if we hurry, we can make it before they adjourn. We would have begun the meeting with you there but since you were _missing_ , we had to start without you.”

“I’m sorry,” U’Din apologized upon them entering the Chantry, mentally berating himself for being a bother. Already he was making mistakes, and that wasn’t doing any good for his self-esteem (or lack, thereof). “I promise to be on time from now on.”

“See that you do,” Cassandra said, letting go of his robe so he could walk in-step with her the rest of the way. She was about to open the door to the War Room when a thought occurred to her, and she gave him an appraising look. “I heard from healer Adan that you are ill. That you have strange wounds. Are you—“

The door to the War Room opened, and a blond, well-built shem blinked in surprise upon seeing them. His amber gaze landed on U’Din, and he sighed and shook his head. He turned back to the room and said, “well, I found them. Looks like we’ll have to recap for the Herald.”

“It’s no trouble, Commander Cullen. We weren’t able to discuss a few matters without him here, so this is a very good thing.” A tan woman dressed in the most gaudy _gold_ U’Din had ever laid his eyes upon smiled at him. “ _Andaran atish’an_ , Herald. Allow me to introduce myself—“

“You found it! My satchel!” U’Din exclaimed, running towards a blinking Leliana and taking the familiar bag from her hands. He quickly shifted through the contents and rejoiced when everything was inside. He beamed at her and said, “ _thank you_. I thought you shems threw it away! Thank you so much, Lady Leliana!”

“Well,” Leliana began with a large smile, oddly pleased for some reason. “You’re very welcome, Herald. It was no trouble keeping it safe for you, truly.”

“Shall we begin the meeting?” the man known as Cullen asked after a silent moment of confusion. He motioned to the map in front of him. “The Herald needs to be briefed, and his opinion on how to seal the Breach would be most helpful.”

“He is a mage. More mages would be able to augment his power. I don’t understand why you fail to realize this.”

“Templars are trained to _control_ magic power. If anyone can help him seal that blasted thing, it’s _templars_.”

“I think you’re being biased.”

“And I think you’re being short-sighted.”

“Please, let us discuss this with _less_ insults, shall we? We’re not making a good impression on the Herald.”

“Of course, let’s be a little more accommodating to the man who’s late to his own meeting—“

“ _Commander_ ,” Cassandra chided with a small glare. She sighed and turned her gaze on U’Din. “But he is right. Where _have_ you been, Herald?”

“Hm?” U’Din looked up from inspecting a shell-shaped pendant, and he blinked owlishly at everyone in the room. He gulped and put the pendant around his neck before smiling tentatively, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. Did you say anything, Lady Cassandra?”

Cullen groaned and applied pressure on the side of his head. “We’re doomed.”

U’Din scowled slightly before bowing his head, offended. Well. He could save the World by himself then, if he didn’t want U’Din’s help. He had half a mind to just leave the War Room, but a certain hedge mage’s words echoed in his head:

_“You shouldn’t let your emotions rule you. Being unable to handle a few insults and careless assumptions would only serve as a hindrance, and as the Herald of Andraste, you have a reputation to uphold.”_

He closed his eyes and reined in the rage that was threatening to lash out and turn the Commander into a pile of ash. He could do this. _Really_.

U’Din suffered through the meeting without shocking anyone and throwing people against the walls. He would have been proud of himself for such an accomplishment, but the overfamiliarity of the shems, their unreasonable demands for _perfection_ , and the dismissal of his concerns about this Mother Giselle overwhelmed any good vibes he might have had for listening to Solas’ advice.

Once the meeting was over, he left the War Room without a word. He heard the Ambassador call out to him, but he paid her no mind. He refused to let them see the anger in his posture, the frustration in his scowl.

Least of all, the shame in his tears.

 

* * *

 

The sky was dark and dotted with stars by the time Solas was on his way back to Haven. His search for his orb ended fruitlessly once again, and this time he was convinced that it had been taken. Its destruction had crossed his mind several times, but unless he saw the fragments of his own orb with his own eyes, he refused to believe it truly gone.

 _‘That thing has it,’_ he thought, scowling and gripping his glowing staff tightly. _‘We’ll have to be prepared. He’ll come back for the Anchor, and the Herald...’_

He jumped when he heard a faint sound of a whistle nearby. His ears twitched as he wrapped himself in a protective cloak of magic, and he approached the sound cautiously. A rather dumb move, if he were to analyze his actions closely, but Solas was confident enough in his current form that he could take on anything not overly powerful.

Besides, a creature capable of creating such a melody shouldn’t be _too_ malevolent. Right?

Using his staff to light the way, he eventually reached a clearing where the source of the whistling came from. He paused, momentarily stunned, when he saw a familiar figure sitting by a hollow tree and playing a small instrument.

It was the Herald.

Solas approached, not worried about hiding his presence. The blond was either unaware of his presence or had resolved not to do anything about it since the melody continued. The hedge mage listened, oddly transfixed with the tune. It made him feel wistful, and a sense of nostalgia hit him.

The music stopped, and Solas slowly drifted back to reality.

“It seems that I have found you by your lonesome yet again,” Solas pointed out unnecessarily. When the Herald made no move to acknowledge him, he frowned and went closer. “Da’len?”

“I listened to you,” he began, voice low and hoarse. It was either from the cold or from playing too long. Solas could guess which it was. “I didn’t let my emotions rule me, and I stayed. I stayed and I listened to them judge me and make fun of me. I...”

“Da’len,” Solas sighed, sitting next to the blond.

“A lot of soldiers died, apparently. Did you know that?” he brought up, smiling self-deprecatingly. He held the instrument out in front of him—an ocarina, from what Solas could tell. “Because I chose to be careful, to be a coward. Many soldiers died because of me. I let them die down there, when I was sneaking around and...”

Solas made no move to speak. He just watched, sympathetic, as the Herald bowed his head and sniffed. Not knowing what else to do, he patted the other man’s shoulder, wincing when he let out a sob. It started a chain of weeping, quiet but loaded with regret and grief.

“Da’len,” Solas tried again after several moments of crying passed, and the blond had calmed down a bit. He continued to rub the Herald’s shoulder, much less awkwardly this time. “I understand how you feel. Given your upbringing, you might not be used to violence and excess amounts of death. But this is the reality of war, I’m afraid. People will die. That’s how it is.”

“I don’t want people to die from my choices, hahren,” he wept, rubbing the tears from his face. “I barely had to make any back home. They expect a lot from me, and I fear I can’t live up to their expectations. This is too much too soon, and—“

“Hush,” Solas admonished lightly, shocking the Herald when he reached out to push away some stray strands of hair covering his face. Solas himself tried not to look into his impulsive actions too closely. “You’re scaring yourself. Nothing good will come out of that. Believe me.”

“I’m trying not to,” he responded quietly, desolate. “But people have died because of me, hahren. That’s never happened before. I got angry once and blew up an aravel, but only I got hurt from that and—“

“Did you blow up another aravel? After that?” Solas asked.

“Well... no. But that’s because I learned how to—“

“Exactly. You learned.” Solas placed his hand on the blond’s shoulder, making him look up. The hedge mage then realized how vivid the younger elf’s eyes were. Such a unique shade of violet. “You needn’t be so hard on yourself, da’len. People make mistakes all the time. I’ve made many, in my time. Some trivial, some very grave. But what matters is not that I’ve made them at all, but that I learned from them. To make sure they don’t happen again.”

Elvhenan flashed before his eyes, bright and beautiful, before it changed and crumbled into nothing. His actions had been impulsive, and while necessary at the time, they started a chain of events that even he did not see coming. And now, years later, he woke up to a future that suffered the consequences of his mistakes.

But he was wiser now. He vowed to correct his wrongs and redeem himself. And to teach this young one the same lesson, and hopefully save him from committing the same mistakes he had made.

“You think I can do that?” the Herald asked, though this time he sounded hopeful. His eyes shined from unshed tears, but also from a deep longing for self-improvement. Solas recognized those eyes. He looked at his reflection and saw the same spark in his own steely blue.

“I believe you can.” Solas nodded, smiling. “But first, you have to learn. Do you wish to learn?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he nodded, and resolve joined the longing in his eyes. It was an attractive look to him, one which Solas was looking forward to seeing often very soon. “Teach me, hahren.”

The hedge mage’s smile turned almost predatory. Great find, him. _Great find._


	4. Unsettling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U'Din understands that death is a natural occurrence. But to be the cause of it? To deal it with his own hand? The idea unsettles him. Greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These revisions are getting longer lol (12/06/2017). Will be beta'd by Rikka soon.

_One of the hunters died today. A small group of them had been out hunting when they ran into a fight between a bear and a pack of wolves, and the beasts saw them before they could walk around undetected. The eldest took the blow for a younger one. Didn’t make it back to camp._

_U’Din knelt beside the corpse, barely a few hours old, and spoke the prayers that he had memorized since his induction as Second. He heard a muffled cry from outside the tent, and he listened as Mahanon wept and grieved._

_“I should have ran away when he said so,” he despaired loudly. Sympathy bloomed inside U’Din. “I should have listened. I should have_ listened _!”_

_He heard people outside comforting him, and he felt the urge to do the same. Still, the deceased had been rather devout, and praying for his spirit’s safe travel to the Beyond was the least U’Din could do, no matter how unsettling the act was. Mahanon was in pain, but he could wait._

_The living can wait. The dead won’t._

 

* * *

 

Harritt made it a point to wake up very early to start working in the forge. A lot of the Commander’s recruits were quite enthusiastic with the equipment, if a little clumsy and inexperienced. Often, Harritt was tasked with fixing minor problems like a loose strap around a sword hilt, and the occasional replacement jobs (he had to convince Commander Cullen to stop letting Seeker Pentaghast teach the recruits how to bash with their shields. She tended to break more of the equipment than the recruits themselves).

Yawning, he stepped into the forge, but paused when he felt the heat of the smelter. Coal was scattered near the base, a shovel struck in the center of the mound. His eyes then landed on a figure hunched over a workbench, working on what Harritt could guess was some sort of armored robe.

The blond hair and elfish ears caused him to gape. Was that the Herald of Andraste?

“Oh! Good morning,” the elf greeted upon seeing him, having turned around to retrieve a strip of leather on the ground. He smiled briefly before returning to his work. “I hope I didn’t wake you up. I did my best to be as quiet as possible, though I did take my time trying to figure out how to work your smelter. It’s much larger than the one I use back with my clan.”

“Err, yes. Good morning, Herald,” the blacksmith greeted back belatedly, staring at the elf’s back as if he had grown two heads. He noticed some hastily drawn schematics on the floor, and he picked one up to take a look at the design. He nodded slowly, impressed. “You made this one yourself, sir?”

“Ah, please, don’t call me that. Nobody back home calls me sir,” he said, smiling sheepishly. He approached Harritt and nodded at the schematics. “And I didn’t really make those. I just copied what was in my father’s journal and adapted it to the ones you already had. Humans and dwarves have different anatomies, you see.”

“Mm, yeah, I get what you’re saying. So you decided to change the design of the pauldrons ‘ere.” Harritt pointed at the schematic for an armor meant for a warrior. He nodded. “Yeah, I see what you were trying to do here. Less square, less resistance, yeah?”

The Herald nodded with a small, pleased smile on his face. “I noticed that Lady Cassandra likes to make less powerful strikes in faster intervals, so I thought a less heavy armor set would work well for her. The current designs you have are built for bulkier warriors, mostly men. She’ll probably appreciate this more.”

“Went through everything in my collection, did you?” Harrit asked, though he was more amused than annoyed. It looked like the Herald knew his way around a smithy, and that was a point in his favor. Not bad for a mage. “So you just modifying my armor, or did you look through the weapon schematics, too?”

“Oh, the weapons are great! Though I have a few ideas for ser Tethras’ crossbow. I’d need to borrow it from him to effectively come up with a few modules.” The Herald quickly skimmed through the stacks of parchment and pulled out a schematic for a staff. “I’d like this one for myself. Lady Leliana didn’t seem to keep the staff I had with me, and I would prefer a staff that matches my preferred element.”

“Put them on the workbench over there. I’ll help you melt the ores.” Harritt rolled his sleeves and went over to the smelter. “I suppose we’re using just iron, eh? Though I’m certain we have some onyx, if you prefer that—“

“Oh, I found these!” the Herald exclaimed suddenly, running towards a few heavy sacks and pulling one over to Harritt. The elf opened it and showed it to Harritt, grinning. “Obsidian! I’ve only ever got to use any when my clan migrates nearer to the mountains. It’s also quite rare too, so I’m excited to see a bit of it lying around.”

“You found obsidian just lying around? Here, in _Haven_?” Harritt asked skeptically as he inspected some of the ores. He shook his head in disbelief. “Blimey, I should be sending the boys to help with clean-up. For all I know, the ol’ girl could be hiding some of them in the tavern.”

“I found some near the tavern, too,” the elf quipped, too distracted by pulling the sacks over to see Harritt gaping. “And beside the Chantry. And boxes around the settlement. You shems really have everything, don’t you?”

“Right.” Harritt shook his head, deciding not to question their good fortune. If there was a surplus of rare metal lying around, a blacksmith like him shouldn’t complain. “All right, let’s make these into ingots first, yeah? Hand them over.”

“Here. Thank you, sir. And, um,” the elf hesitated, wringing his hands and looking shamed. “I’m really sorry about working here without your permission. I thought I’d be done before morning, but your tools are a bit different from what I used and—“

“Nah, don’t apologize, Your Worship. You can use the smithy anytime you want. I know you won’t do anything stupid around ‘ere,” Harritt said, waving his apologies away. He gave the Dalish a rare smile. “Now, come on. We’re not going to get anythin’ done if we stand around all day. Where’d you learn how to smith, anyway? I don’t suppose you Dalish have forges.”

“We do! They’re just smaller, so we can move them around during the Migration. I learned from my master, hahren Alayna. She’s the clan’s craftswoman. She taught me everything I needed to know about crafting and more.” The smile on the Herald’s face turned wistful as he emptied the sacks. “She’s like a mother to me. I miss her.”

“Well, looks like she taught you well. Though not enough to be able to operate a smelter properly,” Harritt said. He gave the Herald a considering look. “If you want, I can teach you a thing or two about how we humans make our armor. No such thing as learning too much about smithing, methinks.”

“That would be great, sir, thank you! I’ll be a good apprentice, _promise_.”

“Just Harritt, Your Worship. And no need to thank me,” the blacksmith threw coal into the smelter, and he smiled as the flames grew inside the mouth. Just a few weeks ago, the flames had been right outside, and the World itself had been driven mad. If not for the man beside him, Harritt himself probably wouldn’t be here, doing what he did best. The thought was unsettling, but that’s all it was now. A thought. A memory.

 _‘And that’s all it’s ever going to be, if I can help it,’_ Harritt thought. He grinned as the Herald watched the metal in the ores melt slowly, mystified by the process.

 

* * *

 

“Where have you been running off to, Herald?” Cassandra asked on their way to the Hinterlands. The sun had just peaked from the edge of the mountains, and the Seeker estimated their arrival at the Crossroads to be at around noon. “You’ve been disappearing constantly to Maker-knows-where recently. What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been working around Haven, Lady Cassandra,” U’Din answered, smiling politely in her direction. He was getting better at not flinching whenever she spoke to him, but he still tensed sometimes, anticipating angry yelling or another strike to the head. “Does that displease you?”

“Of course not! I do not find your sudden industriousness a fault; in fact, I’m pleased that you seem more enthusiastic about helping now.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“No problem, Herald. No problem at all.” Cassandra’s brows met in the middle as she paused. “But don’t get too carried away. You do not want to overexert yourself, yes?”

What an odd question. Wasn’t working hard expected of him? U’Din figured with the way Cullen had mentioned the deaths of many soldiers (which he admitted to indirectly causing) that they wanted him to do better, _be_ better. It was an expectation that wasn’t new to him. Ellana had made sure his work was never subpar, even going as far as to point out where and when he had failed to meet her standards (which was all the time).

But now Cassandra was acting as if he had been working _too_ hard. Was such a thing even possible? Outsiders were so strange.

“No,” he answered eventually. Then, for reassurance, added, “but I’m not doing too strenuous work. Just a few errands here and there. I’ve also started working with ser Harritt at the forge, and he was kind enough to instruct and help me with some side projects.”

“Side projects? Oh, was _that_ why you wanted Bianca?” Varric looked like he had just solved a great mystery. He laughed. “I’ll admit, I thought it was strange at first, but I knew you wouldn’t do anything to my girl. Even thought you were trying to replicate her, but I’m _pretty sure_ you can’t, no matter how hard you try. Imagine my surprise when you gave her back with some sweet upgrades! Guess old Harritt’s outdone himself on designing those.”

“Actually, _I_ designed Bianca’s modules,” U’Din corrected gently, pointedly not looking at any of them. “I made all your new gear, in fact. Ser Harritt helped me, of course, because I couldn’t have finished all of them without his help. His insights on how human armors worked was really helpful, since I had trouble with Lady Cassandra’s breastplate at first.”

“You _made_ this?” The Seeker placed a hand over her new, shiny breastplate. It glinted a gorgeous grey glow under the light—stark white spots littered her shoulders and chest where the sunlight hit directly. U’Din tried his best not to swoon at the quality of his own work. “I’ll admit, I was not expecting a gift from you, but to know that you personally outfitted us yourself? I’m... well.”

“Aww, Willow, I think the Seeker’s _touched_!” Varric boomed delightedly, ignoring the glare Cassandra sent his way. “The Seeker has emotions, the Seeker has _emo~tions_ —“

“ _Anyway_ ,” she raised her voice over the dwarf’s annoying singing. She cleared her throat. “This armor is expertly made, and I thank you for the gift. This will serve me well for a long time.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Lady Cassandra.” U’Din ducked his head, embarrassed by her gratitude, but also pleased by her response. It always made him happy whenever someone appreciated what he had made. It made him feel useful. Wanted, even. “I just want to help out. Everyone’s helping out in their own way, and I felt like I should offer something myself. Crafting is one of the skills I’m a bit good at, so equipping you all properly was the least I could do.”

“You’re being modest, da’len,” Solas spoke for the first time in a while, surprising U’Din a bit. He had been strangely quiet since the start of their journey a few hours ago, when U’Din had gifted him his new armored robe. It fit him well, and it was a much better quality than his old, ratty robes. “Crafting is not a skill to be taken lightly. Not many have the patience and intuition to learn it properly, let alone master it.”

“Solas is right. Give yourself the credit you deserve, Herald.” Cassandra nodded sagely, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah. You did good, Willow. Now I can’t wait to try out these new upgrades!” Varric grinned, then looked thoughtful. “You don’t suppose we could run into a few bandits on the way there, do you?”

“Varric, don’t even _joke_ about bandits. It would be _very annoying_ to deal with any right now, since we are pressed for time as it is.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” The rogue shrugged, his grin no less bright after the reproach. “If we stumble across a bunch of hooligans planning to do no good, and _I_ get a chance to try out my new toy, well, that’s just a really nice happenstance. Oh, and we get to be harbingers of justice and all that good heroic stuff, too.”

“Your nonchalance for violence is very unsettling, Varric.”

“Are you seriously lecturing me about violence, Seeker? Well, I suppose you would know a lot about it. Could teach a few classes, if anyone was brave enough to sign up for any.”

“ _Dwarf._ ”

“Um. Okay?” U’Din muttered to himself, perplexed. He didn’t know why they were making such a big deal about it. In his clan, the productivity of each member was monitored, so everyone had to contribute in their own way. U’Din was decent with healing spellwork and sorta good with crafting, so that was what he ended up doing often. Maybe outsiders didn’t have such urgent priorities, being as many as they were, and they could afford to be carefree about things U’Din would be appalled to take for granted.

He did what he had to do. Whether he was thanked for it or not mattered very little. That was simply the way things worked.

From the side, Solas saw his shoulders hunch in resignation. He frowned contemplatively, toying with the leather belt of his new robe. Solas decided he would observe the Herald’s behavior more closely, having acquired a reason to be concerned.

They reached the Hinterlands as the sun’s position marked the beginning of nightfall. It wasn’t too late, not yet, but reaching the Crossroads was priority. Traveling in the dark was not ideal, but they would if they had to.

“You guys just arrived on time,” a dwarven scout approached them and saluted. “Scout Harding, reporting. Lady Nightingale sent me ahead to observe the situation here.”

“And what are your findings?” asked Cassandra.

“Bad,” she said simply, frowning. “The mages have holed themselves up in Redcliffe, and we can’t approach them properly with all the rifts in front of the gates. A civil war is also taking place here. Factions of rebel mages and templars have been seen fighting each other and terrorizing villages in the process. Pillaging has been reported too, both done by the factions and opportunistic bandits.”

“Maker,” Cassandra breathed. She turned to U’Din. “We should act fast. The Crossroads aren’t far from here, and we have orders to assist and contact Mother Giselle first.”

“You’re the Herald,” Harding blinked up at U’Din in awe. She cleared her throat and saluted. “It’s an honor, sir. Heard about what you did in the Frostbacks! A bit odd, for a Dalish elf to be helping out, but you have our support, wherever you lead us.”

U’Din blinked slowly. The confusion in his eyes turned into apprehension, and he narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harding blinked, not expecting his flat tone. “Sir?”

“What you said about me being Dalish. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh! Uh.” The scout looked uncomfortable now, and she bowed her head once in apology. “No offense meant, Your Worship. Most Dalish clans just prefer to keep to themselves, while some are even aggressive to visitors. But, of course, that doesn’t mean all clans are alike, so I shouldn’t have generalized. I’m sorry, sir.”

Instantly, the hard look in U’Din’s eyes vanished. His demeanor did a complete turn-around as he waved his hands in appeasement. “Oh, no! Don’t apologize. Um. I’m sorry, I should have known it was something like that and not... well. I’m sorry, as well. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Miss Harding.”

“ _Miss_ Harding?” she sounded amused now, at least, but she still looked a little uncertain.

“It’s his thing, don’t worry.” Varric grimaced. “At least you’re not _ser Tethras_. Ugh, that makes me sound like an uptight dick.”

“What nonsense. You’re not uptight.”

“Ho, _ho_ , did the Seeker just make a joke?”

“I’d make another, but I’m afraid you won’t get the _punch_ line.”

“ _Yikes_ , this is getting scary. Guys, make her stop!”

Cassandra threatened physical injury if _he_ didn’t stop, successfully ending the brief, lighthearted banter. She went with Harding to pinpoint the Crossroads’ location, leaving the three men to rest before setting out.

“Anyway, what was _that_ all about, Willow?” Varric asked as he checked his bolts and poison vials. The metal tips sizzled as he carefully applied a bit on the surface. “You seemed kinda... different. Did Harding offend you that much?”

U’Din stopped checking his potion supplies to grimace guiltily. He sighed. “Sorry about that. I thought she meant something different, that’s all. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Was it that thing about Dalish clans? No offense, Willow, but some of you guys are kinda... hm. Chuckles, how would you describe it?”

“Standoffish? Arrogant? Stubbornly set in their ways?”

“Personally, I’d go for _downright crazy-hostile sometimes_ , but that’s okay, too.”

“Really?” U’Din raised a brow at Solas, honestly perplexed. “I knew my clan didn’t interact much with outsiders, but I had no idea that some of us were unfriendly. Or hostile.”

There was a pause. Then a disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding. _Seriously_? What rock have you been living under, Willow?”

U’Din frowned. He lived near the mountains, not under a rock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My clan doesn’t deal with shems around our territory aside from only the occasional trade; I’ve never heard anything about us being violent towards any. As for other Dalish clans, we don’t... communicate with them a lot. My Keeper only reached out to a few other Keepers once, but only out of necessity.”

“Indeed? How odd.” Solas kept a close eye on him, and his quiet scrutiny disturbed him. “You mentioned before that you are your clan’s Second. Did your Keeper ever take you to Arlathvhen?”

“Once, when I was still a new initiate. After that the Keeper never brought me with her and Ellana again. Something about me having better things to do,” he answered, frowning at the memory. He didn’t truly understand why his Keeper stopped bringing him along, but he never particularly wanted to go, so he never questioned it. Now that it was brought up, though, he couldn’t help but find it curious.

“Just once? How peculiar.” Solas had a look in his eye as he considered U’Din. “I’m curious: how old are you, da’len?”

U’Din didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but he played along. “It was my thirtieth winter a few months ago, hahren.”

“ _What_ , you’re _thirty_?!” Varric gaped, giving him a blatant once-over. “Holy... cow. You look... not thirty! What the heck?”

“Master Tethras,” Solas rebuked before turning back to U’Din, intrigued. “You should know that most clans don’t even have Seconds, as it is difficult to avoid attention from templars with too many mages. Still, Keepers who _do_ keep Seconds prefer to bring them along to Arlathvhen. The more people there are to share lore, the more chances of traditions... persisting.”

U’Din shrugged to hide his irritation. Somehow, learning that other Seconds were brought along to Arlathvhen didn’t make him feel any better. “Yes, well, perhaps my clan is just different. We’ve established that already, yes?”

“Indeed we have. Still, how very strange. But I suppose your Keeper had her reasons.”

“Well, whatever they were, she didn’t deem me worthy enough to know about them,” U’Din said testily, pointedly turning his back from them. When Cassandra came back, he approached her and said, “may we go now, Lady Cassandra? We shouldn’t be wasting time, right?”

She blinked at him and nodded belatedly. “Yes, we should. Here is the map, Herald. Lead the way.”

U’Din took the map from her with a soft “thank you” and hid his face behind it, not even sparing Solas and Varric a glance. Cassandra watched him wander off worriedly before turning to glare at the pair. “What did you two do to the Herald?”

“Don’t look at me! Ask Chuckles!” Varric denied, pointing at the hedge mage.

“It seems that the Herald is in a foul mood today,” Solas observed, though he didn’t seem overly bothered by the brush-off. He inclined his head in the direction where the Dalish stomped off. “We should catch up with him. The Herald shouldn’t be left unprotected.”

“No, he shouldn’t be.” Cassandra sighed and started walking. She called out, “ _Herald_!”

 

* * *

 

It was carnage.

U’Din walked around the center of the village, staring at the bodies that littered the bloody and scorched ground. Just by looking, he could tell the exact spot where his lightning hit just to startle, like he intended it to, and where it struck a charging templar by accident. The mages fared no better; with their lack of any real armor, they were no match for Varric’s poison-laced bolts and Cassandra’s swift and powerful strikes. He found one of them impaled on a melting ice spike, courtesy of Solas’ precise but no less brutal magic.

To most people, a battleground filled with the corpses of the enemy would be called a victory. To U’Din, however...

He walked towards the small pond and knelt down to inspect a unique body. It was neither a templar nor mage; rather, it had to have been a civilian. The corpse tainted the water red from where an arrow had pierced the man’s shoulder. A sword was held tightly in one hand; even in death, the man had wanted to defend his home.

He turned the body around and winced. The man had been old, and two deep slash marks covered his chest. That was probably what had killed him. He pulled the body out of the water, hoping someone from the village would see and give him a proper funeral.

Most people would call this victory. But was it, truly? All the destruction, the death? He knew that he’d have to kill for the Inquisition sooner or later, but he had been hoping to leave that to the others. He had no desire to kill, to _murder_ , yet now it seemed impossible to avoid. Especially if he himself wanted to continue living.

The mark on his hand sparked, as if reacting to the rising conflict within himself. Like it was aware of the unsettled emotions inside him; his desire to survive warring with his distaste for violence.

 _‘I hate you,’_ he said to his hand. He stood over the pond where his reflection was clear to see. _‘I hate_ you _.’_

“Willow?”

U’Din turned, and Varric paused in his approach. He realized that some of his emotions must have shown on his face, because the dwarf looked torn between wary and concerned. “You don’t look so good. You doin’ all right?”

In that moment, U’Din thought about telling him. He could ask him if this was going to be normal, if U’Din was expected to murder everyone hostile in his path. It was naive and stupid, the question, but he wanted to ask it anyway.

Because U’Din hated death. He dealt with it every single day back home, and he _hated_ it. Hated the tears of the loved ones, hated his own helplessness for not being able to stop it. Every time a corpse is burnt, every time a prayer was sent, a little of U’Din would die along with the ashes and whispers carried by the stale wind.

U’Din hated death. _Hated it_. But now he was the one causing it. He was a murderer. A soul-displacer. A _monster_.

Monster.

“Willow?” Varric tried again, when U’Din didn’t respond. Suddenly there was a shaking beneath his feet. “Whoa!”

_The living can wait, but the dead won’t. They will rise and take vengeance on the living who slit their necks and poisoned their souls—_

“What’s going on?” Varric heard a low, ominous sound and fell back when the shaking spiked in strength. “Holy shit!”

At his cry, the glazed look in U’Din’s eyes vanished. He blinked and looked down, gasping at the fallen dwarf. “Ser Tethras! Are you all right?”

“The hell? Was that an earthquake or something?” He looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. No one else seemed to have noticed the shaking or the weird sound. His eyes landed on U’Din, and he turned skeptical. “Was that you, Willow?”

“Was what me?” he asked, frowning.

The dwarf didn’t say anything for a while, only looking between the ground and U’Din. His mouth settled in a flat line, making U’Din believe that he was about to get angry. Soon, the harshness in Varric’s face left, and the scowl was replaced by an uneasy grin.

“Nah, must be vertigo or something. Don’t worry about it, Willow.” Varric winced and held out a hand. “But, uh, could you help a guy out?”

“Of course!” U’Din bent down to help Varric stand, and he went as far as to brush away any dirt that had gotten onto the dwarf’s person. Varric looked between gaping and laughing. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you? I can heal any scratches, if you want.”

At that, Varric did laugh. “Oh, Willow, if I had more than a scratch, you’d know. Usually by way of me cursing up a storm, _ha_! Say, you’re not one of those uptight types who don’t curse, are you? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.”

U’Din snorted at that. “I can curse just fucking fine. I just don’t do it often because I mostly deal with children back home.”

“Shit, that’s good. I was kinda holding back around you. Glad I don’t have to now! That’s a damn relief.”

U’Din smiled, mood lightened slightly. He still felt awful for what he’d help cause, and the bodies around him weren’t helping him forget. The old man’s corpse was barely a few feet away, and he wondered if he had any family that would miss him.

Varric followed his gaze and sighed. Patting U’Din’s shoulder, he said, “I guess you’re not used to this, huh? Figured you wouldn’t, since you’ve been in a clan your whole life till now.”

He smiled sadly as he shook his head. “Oh, I’m used to it. I just... don’t like it. You know?”

“Ah, not a fan of killing people, then?” Varric asked, and though his tone was light, he didn’t sound like he was mocking U’Din. In fact, he looked almost approving. “This is going to sound real shitty, but you’ll get used to it. It gets easier with time.”

“I don’t want it to get easier. I just...” U’Din trailed off and shook his head. He just wanted it to _stop_.

“I know, Willow. I know.” Varric patted his shoulder again. He surveyed the area and sighed. “Well. Looks like we’ve got a bit of cleaning up to do. Whaddya say, Willow? It’ll be good practice for fixing up the rest of the World.”

 

* * *

 

“I just finished speaking with Mother Giselle,” Cassandra said. Judging by the distasteful frown she had on her face, Varric had a feeling it didn’t exactly go as planned. “Apparently, she had wanted to meet the Herald, but given his initial wariness of her, I thought it best to approach her myself. In any case, she advised that we go to Orlais and speak with the mothers there. To _convince_ them.”

“You’re kidding. Is she actually _insane_?” Varric exclaimed, almost falling as he hopped out of his makeshift seat-stump thing and approached her. “Isn’t the Chantry, I dunno, kinda _mad_ at him? And she wants Willow to just march in the city and say, “hey, listen!” repeatedly like some really annoying thing?”

“I share the same sentiments. I told her how foolish a plan that was, but she is resolute in her advice. Said that she had faith that some of her sisters would see reason, the same way... I had.” The Seeker scowled and looked away. “I hate it when mothers use emotional bribery. How underhanded.”

“Yeah, you prefer to be straightforward and just hit people.” Varric grinned.

“I’m glad that you have such a high opinion of me, Varric,” she groused, glaring at him. She looked around the area and frowned. “Where is the Herald? And Solas?”

“Oh, while you were speaking to Mother Superior over there, Willow, Chuckles and I went around the village to see if anyone needed help with anything. I just came back from delivering a shit ton of ram meat to that guy over there.” Varric pointed at a man who was in the middle of skinning quite a lot of dead rams. “Probably never saw so much meat in his life. I think I just gave him an unhealthy obsession.”

“I care not about a man developing a complex, Varric. I’m asking after the Herald.”

“Yeesh. Well, Chuckles and Willow are over there, helping out the villagers. Chuckles is helping a few humans, while Willow seems to be focusing on the elves. I sense a favoritism.”

“I don’t particularly blame him for that. Elves are familiar to him. I doubt he’s ever ventured far from his clan before.” Cassandra frowned as she crossed her arms. “In fact, I doubt that he’s ever even seen _humans_ before. Or at least met any.”

“Or a dwarf. He keeps forgetting to look down when trying to find me. Normally that would have pissed me off _big time_ , but I know Willow doesn’t mean anything bad by it. He’s just not used to guys like me. Doesn’t seem used to a lot of things, actually.”

“Yes. I noticed.” Cassandra let a little of her concern show as she watched the Herald speak to a jittery old elf. He seemed panicked, and the Dalish was trying his best to calm him down.

“Say,” Varric said after some time, and he looked a little anxious as he faced Cassandra. “When Mother Superior said Willow should go to Orlais... did she mean _now_? Or like, next week? Next month?”

“I doubt we can afford to delay for a month. Even then, I’m not entirely sure the Herald should even go. I must consult with the advisors on what to do next. They may be able to provide some helpful insight on the matter.”

“So we don’t have to leave right now?”

“How can I consult with them if we don’t go back to Haven?” Cassandra asked, scoffing. She narrowed her eyes at Varric. “Why are you even asking? Are you planning anything, dwarf?”

“Not planning anything! I was just thinking, you know, staying here and helping out a little bit might be good for the Inquisition. You know, build a good rep and all that.”

“Corporal Vale is in charge of securing the Hinterlands. He will make sure that the villagers are safe, and that the civil war be kept far away from the innocents.”

“Yeah, but Willow is the Herald of Andraste. It would look _so_ much better if he himself stayed to help out! It’ll endear him to the people, and the haters would have nothing to say bad about him because _hey_ , this guy just went out of his way to help people out! Besides.” His eyes shifted, and Cassandra followed his gaze. The Herald had just said something to the old elf, causing the elder to burst out into happy tears. The Dalish embraced him and patted his back comfortingly. “I think this will be good for Willow, too. He was shaken by all the killing today, did you know? Guy’s got a glass heart, but a really _big_ glass heart. It didn’t matter that those templars and mages tried to kill him. He mourned for them anyway.”

Cassandra blinked, taken aback. She looked unsure as she turned away. “I don’t know. We are pressed for time, and if the advisors _do_ think it’s a good idea to send the Herald to Orlais...”

“Then send them a message first. Relay what Mother Superior said. If they don’t like the idea, they’ll turn it down with a response. If not, they’ll tell us to go back to Haven,” Varric said. “Till then, Willow can stay here and help people. It’ll be _good_ for him. Seriously.”

“I suppose,” Cassandra conceded reluctantly. After a few moments, she let out a sigh. “Fine. I shall speak to scout Harding. She will send my message to Leliana.”

“Perfect! Looks like we’re going to do a little charity work until Nightingale replies.” He grinned. They heard footsteps, and they noticed the Herald walking towards them with his nose buried in a journal. “Hey, there! How’s the—“

“Have you seen any embrium around, by any chance?” he asked, looking between them. He shut the journal between his hands. “Hahren’s wife is ill and needs a potion. I need embrium for it.”

“That’s a flower, is it not?” Cassandra asked. At the Herald’s nod, she hummed in thought. “I’m not entirely sure. I’m no botanist. Our requisition officer might be able to help you with that, however. Their group had scouted the area weeks before we even arrived, so they would definitely know the place better.”

“Okay. Thank you, Lady Cassandra! I’ll do that right away.”

“Hold on. I’m sending a message back to the advisors. I’ll accompany you.”

“Oh. All right.” U’Din fell into step with Cassandra, and he glanced up at her warily. “Did something happen with Mother Giselle, Lady Cassandra?”

“Why would you think anything happened?” Cassandra asked.

“Well, you don’t look... _pleased_.” The “you rarely do” was left unspoken. “And I saw you with ser Tethras a while ago. It looked like you were arguing, and I assumed it had something to do with that.”

“We often argue, Herald. But you are right; Mother Giselle made a suggestion that I fear may not be a wise action to take. I wish to hear what the advisors think before making any decisions, however.” Cassandra turned to the Herald and inclined her head. “It is good that you are observant. Small occurrences like that can help you make more informed choices, so do keep it up.”

“Oh, I have to be. Observant, that is. Not many of my clansmen like to admit that they’re ailing, especially the elders. Resources are few, after all.” U’Din’s small smile was wistful as he recalled the elders. He had a soft spot for them, which was why he wanted to help out the clean-faced elder from the village. “I learned what behavior came from a bad mood or a bad back. What people’s body languages meant. If they were going to be friendly or...”

“Well, it’s a useful skill to have. Especially for the role that you are to play,” Cassandra said, paying no heed to the possible reference to her prior treatment of him. “It will aid you if the advisors agree to send you to Orlais to meet the grand mothers.”

The Herald paused at the bottom of the slope, watching Cassandra climb without him before following hastily. “I’m sorry? I’m going where?”

“To Val Royeaux, the capital of Orlais. Home to the Grand Chantry of Andraste. Mother Giselle believes that you will be able to reason with the grand mothers there and possibly obtain some support.” Cassandra pursed her lips. “It hasn’t been decided yet, and I’m actually not very keen on the idea. Who knows what could happen, given what the Chantry has already said about you.”

“Y-Yeah. Perhaps it’s not a good idea.” The Herald forced out a laugh, scratching at the mark on his palm nervously. It sparked bright green through the slit on the elf’s glove. “They’ll probably kill me the moment they see me, and you all don’t seem to want that. Unless you want to have me executed after all, and are just pretending so—“

“ _Herald_ ,” came Cassandra’s warning.

“...Sorry.”

The rest of the trek went in silence, but fortunately it didn’t last long. The Herald grabbed a mountain flower on the way up the hill, and Cassandra doubted he he mistook it for embrium, so she didn’t utter a word. When they reached scout Harding, she learned what it was for.

“Um,” the Herald began, twirling the flower in his hand. He held it out to the scout, his eyes averted. “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. I really didn’t mean to. I have a bit of a temper, and I’m really ashamed that it got better of me a while ago. I’ll do my best not to let it happen again, so I hope you can forgive me.”

Harding’s jaw went slack, and if Cassandra had any less pride, her would have done the same thing. Taking the flower, the scout made a show of sniffing it before smiling brightly, obviously pleased. “No offense taken at all, Your Worship. I really shouldn’t have generalized anyhow, so I’m sorry, too.”

“I took it personally. You did not deserve my ire,” U’Din said, scratching at his nape. He gave her a tentative smile. “Am I forgiven?”

“Nothing to forgive, sir,” Harding said. “Nothing to forgive.”

“Scout Harding,” Cassandra began, feeling a little awkward. She cleared her throat and said, “I would like to send a message back to Leliana. Would you please lend me one of your carrier ravens?”

“Of course! Right this way, Seeker Pentaghast.”

“The requisition officer here in the Hinterlands is Corporal Leandra. She is over there, Herald.” Cassandra pointed at a woman speaking to a group of scouts. They were hunched over a table, deep in discussion. “She will help you acquire the ingredients you need for the potion.”

“All right. Thank you, Lady Cassandra! Bye, Miss Harding!” He inclined his head and waved at them both as he jogged towards the requisition team. Both women stared after him, small smiles playing on their lips.

“He’s sweet,” Harding said. She tucked the mountain flower behind her ear and led Cassandra to one of the larger tents.

“He is,” Cassandra agreed.

 

* * *

 

“...Hahren?”

Solas was pulled from his musings by a soft voice. He turned and saw the Herald twiddling his thumbs a few feet away from him, and he inclined his head in greeting. “Da’len. Are you retiring for the night?”

“Maybe. I’m a little tired after today.” He smiled a little, taking the hedge mage’s reply as permission to come closer. Why that would be so, Solas was curious to know. He sat on a boulder near the one Solas was sitting on and looked over the cliff, sighing. “Today was taxing, yet I can’t seem to settle. Am I sick?”

“I believe you would be more qualified than me to tell,” Solas said. “You are the more experienced healer than the two of us.”

“Perhaps that’s it. I probably overexerted myself, healing all those people.” The Herald sighed, leaning forward to cradle his chin on his palms. He looked quite... vulnerable. The pale light of the moon was flattering on him.

“Indeed. You are likely just stressed from today’s events,” Solas affirmed. He turned to his companion and considered him. “I heard from Master Tethras that you were shaken by the skirmish at the Crossroads. I take it you haven’t killed anyone before?”

There was a flash of something vivid and violet in the Herald’s eyes, and he went quiet. Solas didn’t mind, however, as it allowed him to observe. The Dalish clenched his fist, and a thin chain of lightning bracketed his arm for a moment. It concerned Solas, how emotional the Herald was. Solas needed to do something about that.

“No,” he admitted eventually, bringing his knees up to hug against his chest. He sounded broken and spiteful all at once. “I deal with the dead constantly. I prepare their bodies for the Burning, and I say prayers for their spirits and families even though I doubt there are gods out there to hear. I deal with death constantly... but I never cause it. _Never_.”

“You burn your dead?” Solas raised a brow.

“Yes?” he said, blinking at Solas. “It’s more practical, the burning. Corpses tend to attract stray spirits. They possess them and...” The Herald shivered and pulled his knees closer to himself.

The reaction amused Solas. “I take it you’re not very fond of the Undead, da’len.”

“Y-Yeah. We don’t really see eye to eye. The Undead and I.”

“Well, I’m not particularly fond of them, either. But they serve their purpose, I suppose.”

The Herald lifted his head to stare incredulously at him. “What _purpose_ justifies the manipulation of corpses? Why can’t their bodies be left in peace?”

“To a more sentimental individual, the practice would seem uncouth, yes. I myself never bothered to learn the art of necromancy. But looking at it objectively, I can see the practical applications of it.”

“For example?”

“Distraction tactics, for one. Espionage. War. There are many, if you are creative enough.”

“ _War_? As in using the corpses of the fallen as, what, shields? _Fodder_?” The Herald’s mouth curled up in a snarl, and he looked away. “That’s _disgusting_. Soldiers should be honored for their services—and that includes their bodies.”

“...Indeed.” Solas tilted his head curiously at the Dalish, not at all offended by the outburst. In fact, he approved that he had an opinion he was not afraid to share. “Just because the applications are practical does not mean that the act itself is righteous or moral. Necromancy involves the manipulation of spirits as well, something that I found fundamentally troublesome about the discipline.

“I doubt that you came here to argue with me about the Undead, however. Did you need anything of me, da’len?”

“Oh. Uh.” The Herald suddenly looked sheepish, and he looked down at his feet. Judging by the way the tips of his boots moved, he was probably wiggling his toes. “Well, it’s about this afternoon. When I snapped at you. I just wanted to apologize for being prickly. I regret it terribly.”

“Ah. I’ll admit, I was taken aback, but I soon realized that I may have touched a sensitive subject. It was insensitive of me, da’len. Please accept my apologies.”

“Oh, don’t apologize, hahren! It was my fault.” He looked quite crestfallen as he admitted so, and he sighed. “You advised that I should learn to better control my emotions, and I did an awful job of it earlier. Quite a few times, even. I’m normally not so easily worked up, but recently...”

Solas considered him for a few moments. “If I may, what was it that offended you? Was it about the Dalish in general, or just your absence during Arlathvhen?”

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admitted. The tips of his boots moved. “I guess I just realized how much my Keeper’s been keeping from me, is all. I was never allowed to visit other camps aside from the main one, either; only when someone was too sick to move or too... well, dead.”

“I see,” Solas said, setting the information aside for later. “It seems you’re quite sheltered, da’len. Is there a reason why your Keeper cloistered you so?”

The Herald glanced briefly down at his bare, bandaged hand, an act that did not go unnoticed by Solas. “I guess there’s one. I understand that completely. It’s just the rest that I can’t seem to accept.”

“I understand. It must be frustrating, living that kind of life, Herald,” Solas said, genuinely sympathetic. He himself had been confined in his father’s estate, all those many, many years ago. But he proved his worth in the end, and that was all that mattered.

“Herald?” he asked, blinking at Solas. Realization dawned, and his mouth became round. “Oh! I never told you my name, didn’t I?”

“Your name?” Solas asked, and he almost winced. Of _course_ the Herald had a name! He felt stupid for not asking for it sooner, but he assumed that the information had been withheld deliberately.

“Yes, my name. Sorry for not mentioning it sooner. No one seems to care, though,” he sighed, and he wiggled his toes again. He gave Solas a tentative smile and inclined his head respectfully. “My name is U’Din.”

“I’m sorry?” Solas blurted out before he could stop himself.

“U’Din. That’s my name.” U’Din squinted at him. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“Ah, forgive me. I was taken aback, is all.” Solas cleared his throat and composed himself. “There is nothing wrong with your name. In fact, it’s quite... fitting. And very archaic.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Well, I’ve traveled a lot in my time. And most of those travels are done in dreams. In the Fade.”

“You travel to the _Fade_? Wait a minute, are you a _Dreamer_?” U’Din suddenly became excited, and he bounced off the boulder to sit by Solas’ feet. The unexpected action stunned Solas still. “I’ve heard about Dreamers from the elders and the Keeper! They say that what they do is dangerous, but I think it’s fascinating! Do you meet spirits there? Do you see _memories_?”

“...Yes. In fact, that is how I obtain knowledge. Through memories.”

“ _Amazing_!” he exclaimed in Elvhen, and the accent just flowed so smoothly that it washed down Solas’ back pleasantly. “How does it happen? Can you explain it to me?”

“...Of course. I would be happy to, Herald.”

“U’Din. Please call me U’Din, hahren.”

“Very well. _U’Din_.” He tried not to sigh as the name rolls off his tongue. It took him back to a time where crystal spires littered the sky, and spirits roamed right alongside the cattle and soared the skies with the birds. “To start, dreaming is...”

Neither elf knew how long they sat near the crying waterfall, basked under the light of the dropping moon. And neither did they care, for as unsettling the day had been, it at least ended on a light note. They both retired when there were no more stars littering the sky, and they walked companionably to their shared tent.

U’Din went to sleep, lulled by the memory of his name spoken by a deep, soothing voice.


	5. Whispers and Whistles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a glowing mark that can close tears in the sky and dealing with crazy, aggressive shem factions, hearing disembodied whistles and whispers every now and then seems almost nothing.

_Cassandra,_

_Cullen, Josephine and I have talked about Mother Giselle’s advice. It wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested you meet with her, and the Commander and I are of the same opinion that this is far too dangerous for the Herald. Josie seems to think otherwise, however._

_Since we cannot settle on an agreement, we ask that you return as soon as possible. Perhaps the Herald has an opinion; after all,_ he _will be the one walking through the gates of Val Royeaux, if ever, therefore it’s only proper to hear what he has to say._

_Leliana_

 

* * *

 

_Leliana,_

_Understood. While waiting for your response, the Herald suggested we help out the local populace. We’ve put a stop to the civil war here, as well as recruited a few people of interest. The Herald was also able to pinpoint the location of Master Dennett whose elven worker had been in the village when we arrived._

_By the time you read this, we will have already left for Haven. Expect us to arrive before nightfall._

_Cassandra_

 

* * *

 

Ending the civil war had been U’Din’s idea. Initially, Cassandra had wanted Corporal Vale and his team to settle the dispute, but U’Din didn’t want to leave the area unprotected. The watchtowers Master Dennet wanted them to build would take time, and they only really covered his own land. He tried not to think about how _selfish_ that was, but it was hard. 

Not one for needless violence, U’Din thought about getting the rebel factions to see reason instead. Killing them all was the obvious solution, but U’Din thought negotiating with them would be more beneficial in the long run. They couldn’t be _that_ hard to negotiate with, could they? 

“Oh, Willow.” Varric patted his arm consolingly after he told his allies his idea. “You’re so optimistic that it hurts.”

“Really?” he asked, ears drooping slightly. He bit his lip. “But I don’t think it’s beyond the realm of possibility. And the advisors said we should reach out to the templars or the mages to help seal the Breach, yes? I don’t see why we can’t get _both_ , even if it’s just from the factions present here.”

“Very sensible of you, da’len,” Solas said. U’Din might have gotten his hopes up after that, but, “do you have a more detailed plan? How are you going to convince them to join us and work with each other? The whole point of their war is to assert dominance over the other, and working together would be counter-intuitive for them, wouldn’t it?”

U’Din blushed and looked down at his feet. “Well. I thought about just... letting them talk it out? After all, this war was all because of a misunderstanding, right? Maybe if they can discuss peacefully...”

“Actually, the war started because a maniac blew up a Chantry in Kirkwall. I should know. I was there,” Varric said, shaking his head at the memory. 

Self-doubt grew steadily inside him, but he pressed on. “I know that. But it roots from a much bigger issue, doesn’t it? The issue about mages having limited freedom and being locked up in high towers,” _or kept in tents to calm down._

“Well, yeah. That, too. But people don’t think about the bigger issue. All they’re concerned about is that a single mage was able to wreak havoc in a snap, so it follows that a whole group of ‘em can cause even more destruction. _That’s_ what’s driving everyone crazy.”

“So the actions of one become the fault of the many?” Solas raised a brow at the dwarf. “The Herald _does_ have a point. The fact that mages are treated with such prejudice and fear is the problem, and it is normal for people to rally and rebel when pushed.”

Varric threw his hands up in the air. “Look, I don’t make the rules, all right? I’m just explaining what other people are thinking. I’m not saying it’s right, what the mages are going through, or that Willow is wrong!”

“No, he is not wrong,” Cassandra said. She gave U’Din a tired look. “But he _is_ being naive.”

“I just don’t want people to die anymore,” he reasoned weakly, cowed by their unconvinced reactions. It made him want to bash his head against a rock for even _thinking_ they would take his suggestion seriously. “I’ll do all the work, if that’s the problem.”

“Herald, that’s not the point.” Cassandra sighed, uncrossing her arms. “While it’s good that you considered a less violent solution, these rebels aren’t going to go down without a fight. They truly believe themselves to be in the right, and the only way to stop this dispute is to make sure that there is no one left to continue it.”

So their solution was to just kill them, then. Without even _trying_. He sighed and nodded, not even bothering to mask the disappointment on his face.

Of course they would think it’s a horrible plan. U’Din was just a naive elf from an isolated Dalish clan, after all, so what did he know about warfare? He might as well have never left the clan at this rate, because even now, he was still being treated like a lowly Second. A bitter part of him wanted to slit his throat just to spite them. See how they could close the rifts without _him_ , then.

But a cowardly part of him wanted to cling onto life, too. He didn’t have to guess which was stronger.

_People need you now. Don’t give up._

“ _Shut up_ ,” he muttered Elvhen under his breath.

“You have something to say, Herald?” Cassandra asked, raising a brow at him. 

U’Din shook his head and dropped the frown, giving her one of his well-practiced smiles instead. “No, Lady Cassandra. Shall we move on, then? The templar camp should be that way.” He pointed east where the scouts claimed to be the templars’ base of operations.

Varric sighed. Solas shook his head and gave U’Din a disappointed look, having understood what he said.

“U’Din, there’s no need to be rude. I understand your reluctance to kill, but it’s a necessary evil, and sometimes the only way to ensure the safety of others.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid, hahren,” U’Din said, smile dimmed slightly.

Solas frowned. “I didn’t say you were. But you _are_ acting like a petulant child.”

U’Din’s eyes flashed, and he huffed. “Is it childish to want to spare lives now? I didn’t realize the World has changed so much.”

Solas blinked, and his eyes slowly narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Can’t you elves play _nice_ for once? And Chuckles, you shouldn’t call—wait a minute.” Varric paused. He gaped and pointed a finger at U’Din. “What he called you— _U’Din_. Is that your _name_?”

“Yes?” U’Din said unsurely, body twisting slightly away. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Varric guffawed. “Holy shit, you _do_ have a name! I was starting to think I just gave you one—wait, does that mean I’m not your godfather anymore? Aww.”

U’Din paused and blinked slowly, turning to Solas. “What is a godfather?”

“That would be a non-parental name-giver, da’len. In our culture, the closest equivalent would be a hahren or adult responsible for nurturing and educating the children when the parents are not around, as it is not common for non-parents to name children,” Solas replied.

“Oh. Like me.”

“Indeed, like you.”

“Herald U’Din,” Cassandra spoke, drawing their attention. She looked like she had just recovered from a big shock, though U’Din couldn’t fathom what was so shocking about him having a name. “It seems that we owe you an apology. We should have asked for your name a long time ago.”

He smiled again. “It’s all right, Lady Cassandra. I should have mentioned my name long before. It was thoughtless of me, I’m sorry.” 

“Thoughtless,” Cassandra echoed, looking slightly ill. She cleared her throat and gestured to the camp. “Well. We’ve wasted enough time. The templars should be taken out before they realize what we’re planning.”

“All right,” U’Din said, nodding. As he grabbed his staff from its holster, he asked, “shall we go, then?”

“Yes. Lead the way, U’Din.”

 

* * *

 

U’Din’s feet dragged as he walked away from the camp, and his face became washed with orange-red as he turned back to watch the flames. He stared down at his staff and sighed, not even acknowledging the Inquisition soldiers when they passed by and saluted.

He sighed again. There was no glory in this. _None_.

 

* * *

 

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like killing, you sure do know how to beat people up,” Varric began conversationally as they packed their things.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, ser Tethras,” U’Din said, not looking up from his satchel. He checked under his shirt for the ocarina. He frowned a little as he stared at it—was he being crazy, or was the thing _glowing_ a little?

“Dammit, Willow, enough with the _ser Tethras_ , all right? You can call me Varric!” the dwarf said in frustration, throwing a hand in the air.

“Ser Varric, then.”

“ _Nope_ , definitely not! Just _Varric_ , all right?”

“All right,” U’Din promised, though he had no intention of dropping the courtesy. Varric understood that, too, given the way he rolled his eyes up to the heavens and seemed to ask, _why_.

“ _Anyway_ , you’re pretty good at beating people up. And not just with nature-y magic, too. I knew this elf girl back in Kirkwall. Daisy was a First, from what I remember, so she used a lot vine thingies to kill people.” 

“Firsts are taught to walk the path of the root, yes. The manipulation of vines and roots underneath the soil is one of the more common spells among elves.” It was actually Ellana’s favored magic to use, though he honestly thought she was better at using glacial magic. U’Din actually didn’t care much for that type of magic, which was probably why Ellana preferred it.

“Is that what you guys call it? Well, it was always fun to watch her trip a few bad guys with the vines. One time, one of her vines grabbed a guy by the ankle and launched him to the sky! Took a few minutes for him to fall back down. Looking back, she was probably pissed off that day.”

U’Din winced. “That’s quite extreme. Though I suppose it got the job done.”

“Yeah, well. She got a little predictable after a while. Daisy had trouble getting creative with her vine thingies, you see.”

“There’s not much else to do with vines.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t like to use much else, though, which was strange.”

“Perhaps that is simply what she is comfortable with. It doesn’t necessarily mean she can’t do any other magic, yes?”

For some reason, that made Varric laugh. “Oh, yeah, she can do _other_ things, too. Got along great with Hawke because of that.”

The name made U’Din halt his movements. “You mean the Champion of Kirkwall, don’t you?”

“You’ve heard about her?” Varric asked, then he snorted. “Wait, of course you have. Your clan lives in the Free Marches, right? That was pretty close to the action.”

“Yeah,” U’Din said, not offering anything else. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he was that Varric personally knew the Champion. Perhaps it had been mentioned in passing already, but U’Din hadn’t been completely keen on the Inquisition yet (still wasn’t), so he didn’t pay attention to every single thing said in his presence. He could only imagine what the Keeper would say, knowing that he was working alongside the friend of the Elf Butcher. Ellana wouldn’t say anything; she would probably just _kill_ him for such treachery, end of story.

As for U’Din himself? Well. Varric seemed like a nice man, and it would be unreasonable of U’Din to judge him solely on the fact that he was friends with a clan murderer. And it wasn’t like he was going to meet this Hawke, anyway. Right?

The thought lingered as they helped pack for their trip back to Haven. In fact, he was so distracted that he didn’t notice Varric leave, and that someone had stood behind him until he turned around.

“Oh!” He took a step back, almost dropping the sacks in his arms. He dipped his head in greeting and met the woman’s eyes shyly. “Sorry, madam. I didn’t see you there.”

“You needn’t apologize. I was the one hovering, Herald of Andraste,” Mother Giselle said, inclining her head in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

U’Din smiled, despite himself. “It’s very nice to meet you, too. Did you need something, Mother Giselle?”

“Not at the moment. I just saw you and wanted to have a word, like I initially wanted.”

U’Din blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ll admit, when I said I wanted to speak with the Inquisition, I was hoping they would let me speak with _you_. That said, I have nothing against Seeker Pentaghast, of course.”

“Me? You wanted to speak with _me_?” U’Din asked, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice. 

“Yes. Why is that so surprising?” she asked, torn between amusement and confusion. “You _are_ the Herald of Andraste, are you not?”

U’Din wanted to tell her that he very much doubted that, but he didn’t want to do anything that might anger Cassandra, so he just shrugged and tried to smile. “I’m afraid I just bear the title, Mother Giselle. I have no real power in the Inquisition. If it’s counsel you want, you’re better off speaking with the advisors or Lady Cassandra.”

“You do not believe yourself capable of influence?” she asked.

“ _Am_ I capable?” he asked back.

“Dear boy,” she said, shaking her head fondly. It reminded him eerily of his matronly Keeper, which threw him off. “As the Herald of Andraste, you have more influence than you can even imagine. Why do you think the Chantry is so afraid, so desperate to discredit you without solid proof of your supposed heresy?”

U’Din remembered the advisors saying something along the same lines. As the only survivor of the explosion, suspicion immediately fell upon him during the aftermath of the blast, but apparently U’Din had proven his innocence by preventing the Breach’s expansion that day. It ascended him to the role of Herald, which caused many of the grand clerics to discredit the Inquisition and claim sacrilege. 

With the amount of dissent among the clerics, U’Din was surprised that no one had attempted to assassinate him yet. Just as there was no proof that he caused the explosion, no one could confidently claim that he _was_ the Herald of Andraste, either. The suspicion and paranoia the Chantry had for him were not unfounded.

Which was why he was wondering why they still tried to seek out the Chantry’s approval. Cassandra had said so herself: the Inquisition would set things right, with or _without_ the Chantry’s help. Surely the Chantry wasn’t _that_ powerful. 

No one should have that kind of power. _No one_.

“Mother Giselle?” a scout beckoned, approaching them. She saluted to the Herald before turning back to the priest. “There is a special carriage prepared for you. We are to leave shortly, so it might be best for you to get inside.”

“Very well,” she agreed. Turning to the Herald, she bowed shallowly and smiled. “We shall continue our discussion back in Haven. Again, it was a pleasure to finally meet you, Herald.”

“You as well, Mother Giselle,” he said, blinking back to reality. His gaze followed her as she disappeared inside a carriage, and he sighed when he was finally given some privacy. He turned to put the sacks in his arms in the wagon behind him, and he was about to lift another batch when his ears picked up a strange sound.

It sounded like... a whistling noise?

His mark sparked under the glove, and for a moment he thought a rift had appeared near the camp. U’Din turned in place, searching for anything amiss. But all he saw were the trees, the soldiers, the sky.

The whistling stopped, and so did the glowing. U’Din narrowed his eyes at the mark in suspicion, and maybe a little bit of fear.

What in the World was _that_?

 

* * *

 

“Finally, you’ve made it back.” Commander Cullen greeted them by the gates. If U’Din shifted a little behind Solas to obscure himself, no one seemed to notice. “Just in time, too. If Josephine continues to insist that speaking to the grand clerics is a good idea, I may have to plug my ears with cotton.”

Someone cleared their throat, and everyone turned to stare at Mother Giselle. She gave Commander Cullen an unimpressed look. “Speaking to the grand clerics is not as outlandish as you make it seem to be. Not everyone in the Chantry is grandstanding. There are those who are simply afraid, and speaking to the Herald may assuage any doubts and fears.”

“There are those who would wish to harm the Herald, as well. We cannot overlook that fact,” Cullen responded, though he had bowed his head a little in apology. His eyes landed on U’Din who might have jumped a little at the attention. “But if the Herald is able to give a convincing argument for it, I don’t see why we can’t at least try. It will be risky, but a few allies in the Chantry are better than none.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Mother Giselle said, nodding in approval.

“Cassandra, Herald, if you would follow me to the War Room, we will discuss this further. The rest of you can take it easy. You’ve done well in the Hinterlands.”

“That would be Herald _U’Din_ , Commander,” Cassandra mentioned as they walked through the gates. She was completely unaware of the horrified stare U’Din sent her way. “It is only proper to refer to him with his name every now and then. He is more than just our Herald, after all.”

Cullen paused to stare at U’Din. He sighed and gave him a look of apology. “I’m sorry, U’Din. None of us really have an excuse for not asking for your name, and the thought never really occurred to us—to me, anyway. I hope you can forgive us.”

“N-No, that’s all right. I’m sorry, as well,” U’Din said, waving his hands in front of him. “I never _really_ offered my name, so it’s not a surprise that you never knew.”

“Still, we _should_ have asked.” Cullen sighed again and gestured towards the Chantry. “In any case, please follow me.”

Cassandra and U’Din followed Cullen to the War Room, but on the way they had to stop a squabble between a former templar and a mage. It reminded U’Din too much of the civil war in the Hinterlands, so he tried his best to ignore it. Chancellor Roderick’s attempts to discredit him made his blood boil, and he would have said something to defend himself if the mark hadn’t reacted to his temper. 

He shook his hand and stared at it as they entered the Chantry, wondering what in the World was going on with it.

“Is it hurting you?” Cassandra asked when she noticed his worrying. “The Mark?”

“Oh, no. It’s just.” He stared at it warily before forcing a smile in Cassandra’s direction. “I’m just not used to it, yet, I suppose. There’s a lot of things I’m not used to, actually, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I hope.”

Cassandra frowned sympathetically; her eyes briefly glancing down at his mark. She nodded and said, “don’t worry. We’ll make sure we learn about the mark as much as we can. Solas is heading its research, and he has yet to be wrong. Till then, I must ask you to endure it for now.”

“All right,” U’Din said, nodding in acquiescence. 

Cullen opened the door for them, and they entered the War Room. Josephine and Leliana were already there, apparently in the middle of an argument. A traitor was found among Leliana’s spies, and she was torn between simply capturing him or having him hunted down and killed.

“Surely you should interrogate him first?” Josephine asked. “Butler was your friend, was he not?”

“He was until he killed Farrier,” Leliana replied, face hardened with disappointment and regret. “If I don’t do something about him, he may put the others in danger. I should have him dealt with.”

U’Din didn’t mean to listen, but something about betrayal just pulled him into the conversation. He watched silently as the two advisors did their back and forth, and when it became hard to resist, he decided to speak up.

“Lady Leliana?” he called, drawing her attention. The weight of her stare was heavy, but he carried on. “I was just wondering if Butler would have had a motive to betray you. If you had been friends before, something must have convinced him to choose treachery over his friendship with you.”

Leliana frowned as she thought about it. “Well, Butler _did_ come from a devout family, now that I think about it. And he was very vocal about his skepticism about you being the Herald, which conflicted with Farrier’s. _Damn it all_ , I should have realized.”

“So it’s an issue of faith, then,” U’Din surmised, sighing. “It would be difficult to convince him to change. Unless you value his friendship, it might be too dangerous to let him off the hook.”

“You are saying I should hunt him down, then?” Leliana asked, raising a brow.

“If he knows too much, that may be the only option,” U’Din considered, but he shook his head. “But it won’t take too much of your resources to have him captured alive and interrogated. For all we know, he could be working for an unknown enemy, and killing him would prevent us from finding out.”

“He has a point, our Herald,” Commander Cullen said, nodding in approval. “I doubt that Butler would betray the Inquisition for no good reason. We must find out what his motive really is.”

Leliana sighed, and U’Din didn’t know whether it was from relief or exhaustion. “Very well. I shall do exactly that. Thank you, Herald. Your counsel was what I needed.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” U’Din bowed his head to hide his flushed face. “I was only trying to help.”

“Well, now that’s out of the way,” Cassandra said right after giving the Herald a nod of approval. “We should consider our next move. Mother Giselle suggested that we head to Val Royeaux to speak with the grand clerics and attempt to appeal to those we can sway to our side. What are your thoughts?”

“That it’s absolute bull,” Cullen scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked a lot more intimidating that way, U’Din thought, and U’Din stepped a little farther away. “We can’t just send the Herald to Val Royeaux. That would be sending him to his own suicide.”

“But what if we _can_ sway a few grand clerics to our side?” Josephine asked, ever the reasonable one. “Think about what the Inquisition can achieve with the support of even a few powerful members of the Chantry. Surely you can see the upside to this?”

“Do you not see the danger posed to the Herald?” Leliana challenged with a small glare. “Even if we obtain the aid of the Chantry in the end, we have to consider that there may be many enemies waiting for us in Val Royeaux. We have yet to encounter an assassin out for the Herald’s life, but that’s because he is safe within the walls of Haven. In a city with tall buildings and alleys, however…”

“We’ve made do without the support of the Chantry,” Cullen appended, nodding in Leliana’s direction. “It’s not worth risking the Herald’s life to obtain it.”

 _That_ , and U’Din wanted very little to do with the Chantry as a whole. Mother Giselle seemed nice—her eyes on his face instead of his ears—but she appeared to be the exception rather than the rule. If grand clerics were really as prejudiced and hostile as the advisors often made them out to be, then U’Din thought they would be better off without them.

Not that he had the authority to say so, of course, which was why he dutifully kept his mouth shut as the advisors argued with one another, like he learned to do when the hahrens in the clan convened. He could almost feel the weight of Ellana’s stare on his back, daring him to speak up whenever his opinion was asked on one matter or the other. It would not look good on the First if the Second had better ideas, after all. And now, as the Herald of Andraste, he shouldn’t have better ideas than the real leaders of the Inquisition.

Which was why U’Din blinked bemusedly when Josephine suggested to ask _him_ for his opinion. As if it mattered. “I’m sorry?”

Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now is not the time to be daydreaming, Herald.”

“I wasn’t daydreaming,” he said a little defensively. “I was just taken aback. Why are you asking me what I think? Does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? You’re the Herald,” Josephine said, the skin between her brows creasing.

“You people say that as if it has any real weight around here,” U’Din said, frowning and shaking his head. “I’m only good for closing rifts and following orders. I’m not… I’m not important, like you all are.”

“Not _important_?” The pitch of Josephine’s voice was a tad higher than U’Din was used to hearing, and he could swear he heard a snapping sound from somewhere. She looked down briefly at her writing board before clearing her throat. “Herald, you are _very_ important to the Inquisition. We wouldn’t have been able to accomplish half of what we have if not for you. You led the relief efforts in the Hinterlands, yes?”

“Yes, but that’s normal, isn’t it? Helping the injured and suffering, that is. I only did what any other person would do. It’s not worth any real merit.” Nor should it be. There was something inherently wrong with people who do good just to brag about it later on, U’Din thought.

As the advisors stared at him like he had grown an extra head, U’Din felt his patience becoming thinner and thinner, and he stared back at them defensively. “What?”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Leliana asked, giving him a look of pure disbelief that only made U’Din even angrier. “You helped an entire village, stopped a civil war. You did what we hoped you would and more, but you believe it was _nothing_.”

“I never said it was _nothing_ ,” U’Din said, voice dropping as doubt started to settle in. “I just… helping people is normal. It’s basic morals. Anyone in my position would do everything I did.” And probably with more success, as well.

“I can assure you, Herald, that not everyone can. Or will.” Cullen shook his head and gave him a sad, pitiful look. The expression looked so out of place on the stern man’s face, and it made U’Din look away. “Don’t overestimate people. Not many even _have_ basic morals, and they would only attempt to use your position to further themselves.”

“Precisely. What you did is nothing to scoff at,” Josephine added, nodding. “Your compassion showed in the way you helped the villagers, and Cassandra reported that you  perfectly executed the subjugation of the rebels. She claimed it was your idea to do it yourselves instead of relying on the soldiers. That’s true, is it not?”

U’Din stared at Josephine before averting his eyes. The earnestness in her voice was strangely disconcerting, and he finds himself at a loss on what to do about it.

“Someone would have stopped the civil war eventually,” he said at last, meeting their eyes. “I doubt I was the first to want peace to return to the land.”

“But you were the one to actually achieve it,” Leliana argued.

“I suppose, but,” U’Din began, though the expressions on the advisors’ faces made him pause. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which he observed had grown longer the past month. It was a good length, but if the Keeper were here, she’d have it cut for sure.

He was distractedly twirling a few strands between his fingers when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He went rigid under the touch, and he gave Cassandra a wary look.

“Herald. _U’Din_.” He winced a little when he said his name. Damn Solas to the Beyond, or whatever afterlife actually existed. “I understand that you’ve led quite a different life, and that your role in your clan makes much of what you did seem inconsequential, but believe us when we say that your actions _are_ worthy of merit, and that we wholly approve of what you’ve accomplished in the name of the Inquisition. Never doubt your place here with us, and never, _ever_ doubt your worth, either.”

“ _U’Din_?” Josephine’s brows met in the middle before rising up. She glanced between Cassandra and U’Din and gasped. “ _Goodness_ , is that—is that your name, Herald?”

That did it. The string of U’Din’s patience finally snapped, and he turned to leave the room. The advisors called out to him, and he only managed to make it past the door when Cassandra’s hand grabbed his wrist.

“U’Din! What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You say that I’m important. That I have a place here. That I have _worth_ ,” he said in a low voice, though the silence made his words audible and sharp. He glared at them with flashing eyes. “But you never even asked for my _name_. Shows how much you truly think I’m worth.”

He pulled his wrist back with a sharp tug, and he left the Chantry briskly. He greeted the cold, evening wind, heedless of the shouts calling him back. His steps became bigger, faster, until he was barely a white wisp flying past the trees.

He stopped at the base of a dead tree and leaned against it. Letting out a sharp exhale, he let gravity pull him down till he was a pathetic pile of misery on the snow. Cassandra’s words echoed in his head, clashing with the traitorous whispers that sounded like his own voice. He ducked his face into his cold arms and shook, alone in his despair.

U’Din. Not alone. _You are not alone._

_‘Lies.’_

 

* * *

 

“I was hoping you’d come back,” Mother Giselle greeted him by the gates, and her presence kept him from approaching any closer. She smiled fondly and did the work for him; walking on the snow and offering a warm, furry blanket for him to drape across his shoulders. “I heard you made quite the exit. I assume the meeting with the advisors did not go as planned?”

“You can say that,” he said demurely, possessed with an urge to slap himself for doing something so humiliating and impulsive. “I didn’t mean to keep you up, Mother Giselle. I wanted some time to myself, is all. To think and everything.”

“We all need our moments alone, dear boy. But hopefully those moments are fleeting, and not prolonged.” She started walking back to Haven, and U’Din followed suit. “People shouldn’t suffer alone, after all. What is the saying? Misery loves company?”

U’Din snorted. “The First of my clan used to tease me with something similar, except it was, “misery loves U’Din” instead. That was when we were closer, however, and recently she had started saying it to remind me how miserable company I am.”

“That is awful.” Mother Giselle said it so seriously that it took U’Din aback. “No one should be subjected to such cruelty. My heart goes to you, Herald. You must have lived a difficult life.”

“Not really,” he disagreed, scuffing the tip of his boot against the stone steps as they walked up to the plaza. “My life was never difficult. I ate full meals every day, had a warm place to sleep. I was able to learn different crafts like smithing and herbalism, and I was relatively safe. The only times my life had been in danger were situations I put myself into, like wandering into a deserted village overrun by Undead. Or fighting a great bear by myself.”

“Oh my,” the priest said, blinking. “What made you think you could take on a great bear by yourself?”

“It was either me or one of my friends,” U’Din said, shrugging. He looked down at his right elbow where the scar of a bite marred his skin a gruesome black. “And I defeated it, eventually. I made a really nice cloak with its skin afterwards, and it made a warm companion during the cold. I brought it with me here, though I really don’t know where it is now.”

“You’re a very gentle young man,” Mother Giselle observed, smiling at him. Then it faded as she turned towards the twinkling night sky. “The advisors said that you don’t see merit in your own good deeds; that you blind yourself to the good you are capable of doing. I did not understand at first, but listening to you belittle your bravery when you saved your friend…”

“I don’t see the point in bragging about things like that, is all,” U’Din said, staring at the ground and crossing his arms over his chest. “Helping people is the right thing to do. It’s not hard to understand, so I fail to see why I should make a big deal out of doing things that help people.”

“Helping others is definitely the right thing to do, but it is not something that people are selfless enough to do,” Mother Giselle explained with a wan smile. “Perhaps where you come from, people are more inclined to help each other without expectations, but here, there are people who only help if they see a benefit for themselves. I suppose it is simply nature, to want your efforts to be rewarded.”

“But we are more than just our nature,” U’Din said, frowning at the priest’s words.

She chuckled and nodded. “Indeed. But it takes great effort for most to overcome selfishness, Your Worship, and even those who claim virtue, like the grand clerics, are not exempt from this.”

“You seem all right, though,” U’Din found himself saying, before blushing and waving a hand in the air. “I mean—“

Mother Giselle laughed, and she waved a hand. “I’m glad that I have your approval, Herald. A soft-hearted man like you seems the type to have good judgment, and I thank you for your kind words.”

“Not all the time, apparently. I mean, I _ran away_ from the advisors earlier.” U’Din groaned and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t know how I’m going to face them now. That was very childish of me, and I said things that were undeserved.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear boy.” She shook her head. “We all have our moments. Even the most logical of people can be swayed by their emotions, doing things that they would normally not do in better circumstances. You had just returned home from a long trip, and after ending a civil war, at that. It was the advisors’ lack of consideration that drove you to be emotional, and for that it would be remiss of me to judge you for something completely understandable.”

“Do you really think so?” U’Din asked, eyes shining. No one had ever tried to defend him before, aside from the Keeper and hahren Alayna. It warmed his heart a little, to hear those words, and from an unexpected source, at that.

“I _believe_ so,” she corrected gently, smiling at him. With a small sigh, she turned to the row of cottages beyond the plaza. “It is getting late. You will most likely resume your meeting with the advisors tomorrow, and hopefully you’ll have a clearer mind and better mood after a good night’s rest, yes?”

“I suppose,” U’Din said, blushing. He was still embarrassed for his earlier behavior, but he realized that he couldn’t do anything about it anymore. And sleeping in a warm bed _did_ sound amazing right about now.

He blinked when fingers lifted his chin, and he looked up to see Mother Giselle’s gentle smile. Her eyes were like crescents as she smiled down at him, and briefly, U’Din felt warmth flow through him. It was a motherly smile, he thought. The thought made his eyes sag, and his chest heavy.

“Keep your chin up, Herald U’Din. Tomorrow is a new day. Rest well.” Her fingers left, but the warmth stayed, even as he watched her retreating figure disappear into the night.

His steps crunched the snow as he walked back to his cottage, his mind racing in high speeds yet seemingly not going anywhere. The only coherent thought that U’Din could determine was Mother Giselle, and how her kindness filled up his heart and drained it at the same time.

Were the other priests like that? U’Din wondered.

 _‘Why do I get the feeling I’m going to make a really bad decision tomorrow?’_ he despaired in his head. The door creaked as he opened it, and he spared one last glance over his shoulder, to the place where he had spoken with Mother Giselle. Shaking his head, he went inside the small hut, sighing as warmth greeted him like an old friend.

Silence dragged on for a long time after the lights in his cottage went out, until crunches in the snow broke it, fading, fading, _gone_.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Varric began conversationally as they got off the carriage. The gaudy, golden gates of Val Royeaux greeted them enthusiastically, and the dwarf had to squint to avoid being blinded to death. “Not that I think marching to your death isn’t fun, and all, but I’m still wondering what you were thinking when you decided to follow Mother Giselle’s advice and talk to the priests. Too much ale, Your Worshipliness?”

U’Din scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “I don’t drink, ser Varric.”

“ _Gasp_ ,” Varric said, slapping a hand on his cheek as he gaped at U’Din. “What sacrilege! Andraste chose a _monster_ , she did!”

“I can’t be as monstrous as what’s waiting for us over there,” U’Din muttered, head tilting at the city beyond. 

“ _Ahem_ ,” Cassandra said, coming up from behind and glaring at the elf.

U’Din blushed and coughed. “I mean, err—“

Varric laughed and slapped a hand on U’Din’s back—though from his height, he had actually slapped his ass, which made U’Din yelp a little too loudly. Varric paused. “Hey, you all right?”

Solas got out of the carriage just in time to hear the end of the conversation, and to see Varric harassing U’Din. The Dalish’ reaction also didn’t go unnoticed, and he walked up to the younger elf to place a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, n-nothing. I’m perfectly fine, hahren. Just, uh.” U’Din cleared his throat and looked away, the tips of his ears red. “Ser Varric didn’t mean anything malicious, and it was probably an accident, anyway—“

“Malicious!” Varric cried.

“If you are all _done_ mucking about,” Cassandra cut in, placing her hands on her hips. The three men immediately straightened, and she cocked her head towards the city. “We have a meeting with the grand clerics. Herald, are you prepared?”

U’Din groaned and hung his head a bit, nodding belatedly. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Lady Cassandra. I’ve even prepared my will, so please read it after I’m executed for existing today.”

“ _Yikes_ , that sounded like a joke, but,” Varric said, shaking his head.

Solas’ eyes narrowed slightly. “ _U’Din_.”

“Fine. Sorry.” U’Din sighed and nodded, a little more energetically this time. He took in a deep breath and began walking over the bridge towards the city. “Let’s go, I guess.”

Cassandra shook her head. “A little _less_ motivational, Herald.”

“Come on, give the guy a break,” Varric said as he walked in-step with Cassandra. Solas followed closely behind. “Look at him. He’s practically shaking like a leaf! And no one can really blame him, because he’s meeting the most uptight people in the World.”

“Very astute of you, Varric. Your observation skills are clearly beyond match,” Cassandra said rather blandly, the side of her mouth deepening. 

“I know, right? I deserve some kinda reward. Maker knows I do for just putting up with all kinds of shit he throws at me.”

Cassandra twists to throw a punch, but Varric easily evades and runs to U’Din’s side. The Herald didn’t even notice the company nor the argument occurring behind him, for he was too busy staring at the grand gates that gleamed brightly under the touch of the sun.

He scowled. _Gold_. He _abhorred_ gold.

Just when they reached the gate, an Inquisition scout ran up to them and knelt in front of U’Din. The Herald winced as she spoke from that position, not even lifting her head when she warned them about templars waiting for them along with the grand clerics.

“ _Templars_?” Cassandra asked incredulously. “Why in the World would the Order be here? And during such a vulnerable time?”

“The others reported that they are here to protect the people from the Inquisition. As if they truly believe that we mean them harm,” came her response, and her voice almost cracked at the end, as if she was hurt from the assumption.

U’Din felt a sting at that, too. While he knew that they hadn’t done much, he’d like to think that their efforts in the Hinterlands would have spread by now. Unless someone was spreading false information, which wouldn’t surprise U’Din in the slightest. The one who held power over the dissemination of information had the upper hand, after all.

Which made U’Din wonder: _who_ would do such a thing? Was it the grand clerics? The templars, the mages? Or a new, unknown variable altogether?

“U’Din, let’s go,” Solas said from behind, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Cassandra has ordered the scout to send word back to Haven. It seems that our visit here may not be as peaceful as we hoped it would be.”

U’Din groaned and dug a heel against his right eye. Well, it was nothing U’Din didn’t expect, and he was honestly surprised the templars weren’t stampeding out the gates to attack him yet. And it was such a shame, because at this point U’Din wasn’t sure if he was going to do much to defend himself.

“ _U’Din_ ,” said Solas a little harshly, as if sensing his thoughts.  “Don’t give up so easily.”

“I’m not,” U’Din denied as they walked through the gates, and he dug his heels on the white bricks when he saw the crowd that had gathered in the market place. Were all of them here to see them? _Him_?

A push at his back eventually led him to the center, where an elderly cleric on a platform called the attention of the crowd. She called for mourning, as their Divine had been taken needlessly from them, by the murderer who was masquerading as a so-called Herald whose elven heritage _clearly_ proved that he couldn’t have been sent by the Maker.

Oh, wait. Were they talking about _him_?

“Geez, did they have to bring up the _elf_ part? Rude.” Varric scowled, glaring up at the grand cleric. U’Din wondered why he was still even surprised.

Cassandra stepped up, shielding U’Din from the judgmental stares of the crowd and the priests. “We come here in peace, revered mother! Believe us when we say that the Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late!”

The revered mother’s lips curled into a snarl as she pointed to the side. “It’s already too late, Seeker Pentaghast.”

U’Din’s ears twitched as he heard metal clanking, and rhythmic footsteps growing louder and louder by the second. He turned and saw a large group of templars approaching, and his heart sped up as he thought about this being the end. 

Panic seized him, and he took a step back, but Solas grabbed his arm and held him in place. Their eyes met, stormy blue against vivid violet, and for a moment, U’Din felt as if his entire body was displaced, his vision distorted.

“Don’t be afraid, Herald. We won’t let them hurt you,” was what Solas said, maybe, but U’Din could not be sure, trapped in a haze as he was.

U’Din slowly blinked back to reality, and just in time to see one of the templars _punching_ the revered mother. U’Din’s jaw fell as the crowd fell into a wave of gasps and cries, and he moved, as if by reflex, to the front. He was held back by Solas again, and he turned to see him shaking his head.

“Lord Seeker!” Cassandra cried, eyes wide at the scene before her. “What are you—“

“Don’t assume you can casually address _me_ , Pentaghast,” the Lord Seeker interjected as he slowly stepped down from the platform, narrowed greys trained on Cassandra.

“L-Lord Seeker?” Cassandra recoiled, as if slapped.

“Don’t pretend to be unaware of your own trespasses, you foolish woman.” The Lord Seeker sneered. His eyes trained on U’Din, who had frozen under the heavy weight of his gaze, and his sneer deepened. “All this heresy, this _deception_ , and for what? A chance at glory? You’re a fool to assume that your sins would go unnoticed by the Order. For _shame_.”

“What _shame_ , Lord Seeker?” Cassandra argued, her fists clenching at the sides. “The Inquisition only wishes to fix the World! The war is threatening the lives of the innocent, and the Breach is a living madness that continues to—“

“The Breach is indeed a threat, but your little Inquisition has no power to stop it,” Lord Seeker huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But my lord,” came the voice of a templar behind the Lord Seeker. He wore no helmet, so U’Din could see his troubled face very clearly as he glanced at him. “Word has it that the so-called Herald can seal the tears that bring demons into our World. What if… What if he _has_ been touched by the Maker? He could be the key to—“

“You are in no position to question our Lord Seeker, templar Barris. Stand down.” A templar stepped up and glared at him, and the templar knight fell back, murmuring a reluctant, soft, “ _ser_.”

“Save your mercy for those who deserve it, young knight. The Templar Order is where your loyalty belongs, and it is the one to rid the World of the threat from the Void.” Lord Seeker sneered at U’Din as he passed. “ _You_ are nothing, false prophet. And your Inquisition? _Less_ than nothing.”

U’Din silently fumed as the Lord Seeker marched with the templars, away from the crowd and, eventually, out of the city. The people followed the templars with their wide gazes, murmuring amongst themselves—for if the templars had left Val Royeaux, who was to protect them from the villain that was the Inquisition?

But the Inquisition wasn’t the _real_ villain, here. Even U’Din knew that.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric commented as he looked up at U’Din, smiling. U’Din couldn’t bring himself the share the dwarf’s humor, however.

“The Lord Seeker has gone mad,” breathed Cassandra, staring at the ground in disbelief.

“It seems it will be more difficult to sway the templars to our side after today,” said Solas, watching the templars disappear one by one with a critical eye.

“Maker, I hope not. The Lord Seeker should still be able to see reason, but if that doesn’t work, we may have better chances at convincing the lower members of the Order. Surely not _all_ of them agree with this madness!”

“Well, good luck trying to convince _him_ , Seeker. And you’ll be doing it on your own, ‘cause I’m sure Willow ain’t—“ Varric blinked and turned in place, throwing his hands up in the air. “Now where’d _he_ go?”

“Over there,” Solas pointed to where U’Din had trotted to ascend the platform, where the injured revered mother lay surrounded by fussing the other priests.

U’Din glared at the shems who just _prayed_ while one of their own was lying down in pain. He collected healing magic in his hands, and knelt down beside the priest who looked up in shock.

“What are you—“

“Easy. You were hit in the head just now, so no sudden movements, all right?”

“I,” she paused, closing her eyes as the warmth of his magic helped ebb the pain. When U’Din was done, she sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, scoffing. “I suppose you’re quite smug, aren’t you? Forcing our hand, then watching as our own templars turned their backs on us.”

U’Din frowned. “I’m not the type to find victory in an elderly woman being struck by someone she thought she could trust.”

She scoffed again. “But isn’t this the outcome you longed for? Faith in the Chantry, demolished! The faith of my sisters, scattered to the wind! This is a dark day, and I only fear what comes after.”

U’Din shook his head. “Perhaps instead of fretting and bemoaning every time something doesn’t go your way, you’d go out and do something about the situation? That seems to be the only way things get done around here.”

“Like what _you’re_ doing?” The revered mother narrowed her eyes at him, before suddenly looking contemplative. After a pause, she asked, “tell me, elf: _are_ you sent by the Maker? Like so many claim?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. He stood up and walked down the steps. “And honestly? I think you have bigger problems to worry about.”

He stepped off the platform and rejoined his companions, but as he was nearing them, he felt something cold brush against his nape, and he shivered.

_“You did the right thing.”_

“Huh?” U’Din turned around, but found no one there. He narrowed his eyes at his empty surroundings. “Who’s there?”

 _“You help people. I like that,”_ the eerie, disembodied voice whispered again, and he yelped as the coldness brushed his nape again. _“I’m going to keep watching you. All right?”_

“Herald?” Cassandra called, approaching the Dalish who was gaping at empty space. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wro—“

Her words were cut off when an arrow was shot past her, and she and U’Din cried out as the arrow struck the ground, almost hitting U’Din’s toes. She would have started looking for the assassin if a heavy weight hadn’t landed on her, and she looked down at the unconscious elf in her arms.

“Herald?” She shook him. “ _Herald_!”

“ _Yikes_ ,” said Varric as he helped steady U’Din, and he and Cassandra gently placed him on the ground. He clucked his tongue and sighed. “Looks like the excitement finally caught up to Willow.”

“Maybe,” Solas said as he stood over the Dalish’ supine form. His head turned towards the rooftops, his ears twitching and eyes narrowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. Rikka and I had a falling out over something extremely personal, so not only did I have to deal with losing my best friend, I also had to beta things myself. Fortunately, the length of this revision should make up for the lateness.


	6. Interlude I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna vanish for a week or two so I decided to post this one up early. It's just an interlude, but I think it's also kinda important? Haha. Idk. You guys decide :P
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd.

“You _sure_ that’s the Herald thingy?” A blond elf on the roof squinted at the four Inquisition members approaching the crowd. She frowned. “Which one is it? The dwarf? The... _ugh_ is that an elf? Maybe it’s the warrior with the mean face. She looks Heraldy—“

Someone was making panicked muffling sounds beside her, and she glared at the bound Inquisition agent she subdued earlier. She placed a finger over her lips. “ _Sshh_! Do you want us to get caught? Shite!”

The scout refused to be silent. The archer groaned and took out a knife from behind her. The scout immediately stopped and looked at the weapon, wide-eyed.

She smiled wickedly at the scout. “Sorry about this. But it’s not like they’re gonna forgive you for blabbing all that info to me, eh? So better me than—“ Without hesitating, she sliced the scout’s neck. “— _them_.”

Sera wiped the blood off using scout’s clothes before putting it back in its scabbard. After that, she transferred to another roof, the one nearer to the action. She still couldn’t see the _Herald_ properly, but it was clear that it was probably the blond with the droopy hair and sad face. Well, she’d probably be sad too if she had to talk to a bunch of self-absorbed priests. And that elf. _Ugh_.

The archer watched the event transpire. When the templars came and one of them punched the annoying priest, she cackled. She waited a few more minutes before the crowd dispersed. She rubbed her hands together and grabbed her bow; this was her chance.

Sera stretched her bow and aimed. Should she aim at his head? Or maybe his foot? Whatever! She was going to get the Herald’s attention one way or another. From what she and her people could tell, this _Inquisition_ had the best chance of getting things back to the way they were before. Once that happened, Sera could go play again.

She hoped the Herald wasn’t an elf, though. That would suck balls.

 

* * *

 

“Curious.” An elegant, dark-skinned woman intoned as she finished reading the letter in her hands. She looked at the messenger standing before her. “You’re certain this information is... reliable? I am aware this Inquisition is doing everything it can to stop this madness, surely, but to be able to seal the rifts?”

The messenger nodded. “Yes, my lady. The Herald of Andraste possesses the ability to seal rifts, and one of our agents witnessed it firsthand in the Hinterlands. We believe this information would interest m’lady.”

“Indeed.” She hummed. What a curious trick, sealing rifts. It intrigued the scholar in Vivienne, but what intrigued her was the fact that this movement was attempting to seal the Breach. How... naive. But noble, definitely. If they were doing _something_...

She folded the letter and placed it on her lap. She gave her servant a small smile and nodded. “Thank you, Arnaud. I’ll call for you again if I need you.”

“Yes, Lady Vivienne.” The man bowed before leaving the enchanter to her lonesome.

Vivienne smiled as she tapped her chin with a polished, manicured finger. She was going to host a salon soon. Perhaps she could extend an invitation to this _Herald_ and propose to offer her services to him there. She wasn’t going to waste away doing nothing.

She nodded to herself. Now, how was she going to get his attention? Perhaps that spoiled, little Marquis would be of some use to her after that little stunt of his. She smiled wickedly; oh yes, perfect.

 

* * *

 

“Excuse me, ser!” A frantic call came from his back, causing him to pause his steps. “Please! Will you help us? Bandits are pillaging our supply caches and killing us refugees!”

The warrior turned around and saw a few men looking at him desperately. It was probably the armor. Or the sword. Or maybe the beard because he was told he looked reliable with it. The thought made him uncomfortable.

“Bandits, eh?” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the men with a critical eye. Their builds weren’t bad, but they didn’t look like warriors. Farmers, heavy-lifters definitely, but now warriors. This wasn’t going to be easy.

But if he could help... He could just treat them like conscripts, couldn’t he? Blackwall sighed and looked at the hopeless men in front of him. Maker’s balls, did these men even know how to wield a sword? Bunch of greenhorns.

“All right, here’s what you’re going to do. First off, we need to get you equipped. Try this sword... no, you don’t hold it like _that_...”

 

* * *

 

The sky made such a pretty color when the sun was just about to set. It was so pretty, he’d like it on a bedspread. Or on a cloak. He looked good in cloaks. And the orange-purpley-red would compliment his dark skin _so_ well. Ahh, the possibilities.

The caravan he had hitched a ride on stopped, and he frowned and looked at the driver. He got off the caravan and approached the driver who had just gotten off his horse.

“Sorry, but this is as far as I’m going for now. Will continue the journey in the morning. Unless you’re okay waiting? I have a few extra bedrolls—“

“Oh, ‘tis fine.” He declined politely. He pulled out a coin purse and gave the man a sovereign. “That should do it. Thank you for allowing me to ride with you. It would have taken me more than a day to reach Redcliffe if I had traveled on foot.”

“Not to worry! Was on the way, anyway.” The driver tipped his hat back in a form of a salute. “Well, safe journeys! Maker knows that the Hinterlands is an awful place right now. Is why I’m taking a break for now.”

Dorian smiled indulgently at the man and nodded. “I see. Thank you again, and I do hope you be careful.”

“You too, stranger! Farewell!”

Dorian started walking, and it took him a few minutes to reach a hill. He climbed up and looked over at the horizon; Redcliffe was but a tiny spec, but a visible spec at least. Now all he had to do was find a replacement staff in case troublesome bandits decide to mess with him. Too bad he couldn’t bring his old one, but he couldn’t really travel with one right now, could he?

But despite the inconveniences, Dorian _had_ to get to Redcliffe. It was the place he knew he would find his mentor... and, hopefully, figure out what the man was trying to do. He sighed.

“Alexius, what are you _up_ to?” Dorian whispered to the wind. He didn’t know, but he _certainly_ was going to find out no matter what.

 

* * *

 

“Chief, I have the information you requested.”

The Qunari stopped drinking from his tankard. He beckoned the soldier over and took the reports. “The one on the Tevinters in the Storm Coast? Ha! Tricky bastards think they can outsmart us!”

“There’s reports on the Vints, yes, but _that_ report is on the Inquisition.” The soldier crossed his arms over his chest. “The one you requested the other day.”

“Ah.” The Qunari sobered. He placed his tankard on the bar, ignoring the obnoxious laughter from the drunks in the corner. He pulled out a rolled-up letter in his back pocket and looked at the seal inside.

It was a letter from the Ben-Hassrath. Iron Bull pocketed it before facing his company with a confident grin.

“All right, Chargers! We got ourselves an Inquisition to impress! Krem, you know what to do.” He pointed at the soldier who gave him the report on the Inquisition. “Get to Haven and convince them to see what we’re capable of. The Chargers can do a lot for that movement.”

The warrior did a mock salute. “Aye, Chief. I’ll be on my way.”

The Iron Bull watched as Krem left, leaving him with Dalish and Grim. He made a hand signal, and the two of them started moving towards the drunks. With luck, this would be an easy one. Perfect. More time to come up with a good way to tell the Inquisition that he was Ben-Hassrath without revealing too much.

 

* * *

 

Keeper Deshanna was quiet. Well, Ellana thought she was _always_ quiet. She was the wise matron who silently watched over the rest of the clan, fulfilling her duties like the capable and fair leader she was. Ellana, being the First, wanted to be just like her one day. She wanted to do her Keeper proud.

But her Keeper was quiet. Not because she was just being herself, but because...

She started coughing, and Ellana reached for the clay bowl filled with water beside her, and the First hoisted the ill Keeper up a bit to let help her drink.

“Keeper, you’re still ill. You shouldn’t be so—“

“How long would it take him to get back here?”

Ellana bit her lower lip and looked down. She set down the clay bowl beside the Keeper. “It’s only been a few days since he left, Keeper. It would take him another week to reach his destination if he’s traveling at a regular pace. The meeting would take no more than a day, I believe, so he’ll be back in two week’s time at least.”

“Two weeks...” Deshanna sounded worried, upset. Ellana didn’t understand what the concern was all about, but she kept quiet and watched the Keeper silently think. And then the old woman spoke again.

“I want you to be on the lookout for U’Din when the time comes, Ellana.” The Keeper ordered after settling back on the bedroll. “I appreciate that you had done what you thought was best in my place, but I specifically ordered _you_ to go, not U’Din. The lad doesn’t know anything about shems, so I fear the worst. If anything happens to him...”

“I...” Ellana clenched her fist and nodded. “I will take full responsibility, Keeper.”

“You will, _da’len_.” Promised the Keeper. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m tired. Please allow me to rest.”

“Of course, Keeper. I’ll be nearby if you need me.” Ellana inclined her head respectfully at the Keeper. She stood up and left the tent. She was attempting to keep her temper at bay when something—or rather, _someone_ appeared beside her. She sighed irritably.

“What do you _want_ , Mahanon?”

The red-haired hunter paused at her annoyed tone. Then he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So? What did the Keeper say? About U’Din?”

“She said that it was supposed to be _me_ who went, not U’Din.” Ellana replied, still walking. She groaned when her brother started following her. “Said U’Din didn’t know anything about shems, so she’s worried about him.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.” Mahanon retorted, ignoring his sister’s glare. He glared back. “I still believe that I should have gone in your place instead of U’Din. He didn’t need to go.”

“You were needed _here_. I thought I told you that.”

“But _U’Din_ wasn’t? He’s Master Alayna’s apprentice, you know.” Mahanon challenged. When his sister didn’t reply, he scowled. “U’Din and I fought that night. I wanted to go with him, keep him safe; with the mages being prosecuted by those templar shems, who knows what could happen to him? But he said no. Didn’t want to trouble me he said. We argued and—“

“I’m not interested in your little quarrels, brother. What happens between you and U’Din is... _ugh_.” She scrunched up her nose in disgust. “In any case, I have to—“

“Don’t dismiss the topic so casually, Ellana!” Mahanon grabbed her shoulder to make her face him. He looked livid at her. “This is _U’Din_ we’re talking about! Not some stranger or stupid shem! What if something happens to him?”

Ellana scoffed and pushed his hand away from her shoulder. “He can take care of himself. He’s not a fucking invalid, Mahanon. Might even grow a backbone, that wimp.”

Mahanon narrowed his eyes. “Ellana, I told you _not_ to talk about U’Din that way. He’s—“

“Oh, I forgot. I’m not allowed to talk about your little _boyfriend_ in front of you. I’m _so_ sorry.” The First apologized sarcastically, then she forced a smile at her brother. “Now, if we’re quite done, I’m going to do my work. I suggest you do the same.”

Ellana shook her head as she walked away from her brother. When she was far away enough, she grabbed the staff on her back and struck a nearby log with lightning. She growled angrily and threw her staff to the ground.

U’Din. Even when the stupid blond was far away, he was still causing her problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to finish U'Din's portrait :( I always started a new one because I wasn't too happy with the previous portraits. But I'm _kind of_ satisfied with this new one. You guys can see the progress screenshot [here](http://prodigal-art.tumblr.com/post/130892652461/progress-of-udin-i-have-no-idea-how-it-turned). The blog itself doesn't have anything in it yet because I just created it, but hopefully I'll be able to put up more fanart for The Spare in the future. :D Also, the blog is still quite plain OTL Sorry about that!
> 
> Thanks so much for the views, kudos and comments! I can't believe we reached 1k hits already! I'm so grateful and happy <3


	7. Louder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Was sick and uninspired for a while, but now I'm back! Still sick, though :)) Still, I hope this is a good update. I had trouble with the pacing OTL Might even change it if I get annoyed with it :(((
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd, as usual.

It took U’Din a moment to calm down after the arrow almost pierced through his toes. Varric was telling him to _breathe_ , while Solas was patting his shoulder in what he assumed was a soothing way. The blond didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was only making U’Din more nervous by doing so. Why? He wasn’t very sure.

“Who do you suppose shot this? And where?” The warrior looked around and squinted, trying to find any suspicious characters in the area.

U’Din calmed down enough to be able to look at the arrow. The angle was about... seventy degrees? Strange angle, unless... U’Din looked up at the nearest building. The roof was vacant, quiet. But he wondered.

Solas stopped patting him on the shoulder (finally, he can actually _breathe_ now) and squinted at the arrow. “There seems to be a note attached to it. A message, perhaps?”

Hesitantly, U’Din reached out and grabbed the arrow. He opened the letter to see what was inside, but all he did was end up blinking at it in confusion. How... could he read this?

Cassandra took the letter from him before he could protest. Not that he would, really. He listened as she enumerated what was on the letter. Or tried to, anyway. It seemed like illegible squiggles at first, but Cassandra deciphered the first word, and the next came after the other. It looked like the messenger was warning him about a “baddie” being out for him.

“Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and round the cafe, and maybe you’ll meet him first. Bring swords.” Cassandra said, furrowing her brows. “What _nonsense_ is this? Who are these Friends of Red Jenny?! Shooting an arrow at the Herald like that—“

“ _Easy_ there, Seeker. His Heraldiness didn’t get hurt.” Varric tried to soothe the seething woman. He glanced at U’Din before returning his gaze to her. “Maybe a bit scarred, but not hurt.”

U’Din scowled and crossed his arms. “I’m not _scarred_ , Mr. Varric.”

There was a snort on Varric’s left. The dwarf made a face at Solas and sighed. “What did I say about the _mister_ , Willow? Varric’s just fine.”

The blond looked uncomfortable. “But—“

“Argh, no, not that face!” Varric suddenly exclaimed, shaking his hands in front of him. He sighed again. “ _Fine_. You can keep calling me that if you want. Just stop making that kicked mabari pup look, okay? I feel like the most horrible person right now for causing it.”

“How very generous of you to allow the Herald to address you in a way that makes you uncomfortable... Master Tethras.” Solas smirked the tiniest bit. It got bigger when U’Din suppressed a snort.

“Keep laughing, Chuckles. I know which hut you sleep in."

“If you three are _quite_ done.” Cassandra intoned before them, getting their attention. She waved the note in her hand. “We have a situation here. A so-called _Friend of Red Jenny_ is claiming that a noble is planning something nefarious against the Herald!”

Varric made an impressed sound. “ _Nefarious_. Someone’s been reading more advanced literature—“

“ _Dwarf_.” Cassandra warned. She glared when Varric made a mock defensive stance. “This is _serious_. I suggest we investigate and see what this _friend_ has uncovered.”

The blond elf furrowed his brows. He took the note from Cassandra (after silently asking for permission, of course) and inspected it. The doodles made him frown; it was hard to take the note seriously, especially since it was worded the way it was. Who calls a supposed conspirator a _baddie_? The skeptic in U’Din was banging against the walls of his mind, telling him that this note wasn’t what it seemed. He agreed heartily.

“We have to be very careful about this letter.” He spoke after a few moments of silence. He looked at his companions. “This note doesn’t seem very reliable. It could be a trap.”

Solas nodded. “Agreed. It’s hard to take the information seriously when there’s all _this_.” He leaned closer to U’Din to narrow his eyes at the crude doodles. The blond edged slightly away from him in embarrassment. “If not for the message, this looks like the work of a five-year-old, really.”

“I suppose that is true,” Cassandra considered, rubbing her chin. “But whether this note is legitimate or not, this is something I feel is worth investigating.”

The blond frowned. “I didn’t say that we _shouldn’t_ investigate. I was just saying that we need to practice caution. Who knows if this _Friend of Red Jenny_ is even a friend of ours?”

Cassandra nodded, showing that was also the point that she was trying to make. “Agreed. This _Friend of Red Jenny_ might be the true villain, and if that’s the case then it’s best that we take them out immediately.”

Varric frowned up at the warrior. “What _is_ it with you people and putting Willow’s life in danger? Don’t you think he’s had enough for today?”

“Ever since the Conclave, the Herald has been risking his life every day, Varric. This is a reality that you have to accept.” Cassandra said. Then she faced U’Din. “And so should you.”

U’Din frowned. He wanted to protest vehemently—say that he was doing more than enough for them, for a movement that he _never_ wanted to be a part of. But—

_Duty. The living can wait. The dead won’t._

U’Din’s frown deepened, and he looked at the note again. He was unaware of Solas observing him from beside him. The Herald sighed and gave Cassandra back the note.

“If it would put your minds at ease,” U’Din began. “Then let’s do what this _Friend of Red Jenny_ wants.”

Varric sighed. Solas took another look at the note before looking around. The mage pointed to the left.

“I believe that is the way to the docks. The sender specified locations to look for red things, so we should probably start there.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time.” Cassandra said. She started walking towards the docks; Solas and Varric following suit. U’Din lagged a bit, just so that he could see their backs in front of him. He sighed in relief. He wasn’t taking point now but—

Duty. That left a really bad taste in his mouth and yet...

 

* * *

 

Once they acquired all the “red things” scattered around the city, they found out that they had to proceed to a particular location _at_ night to find out who this “baddie” was. It irked Cassandra when they found out that they had to go outside the city too, but since it was she who suggested they investigate in the first place, she reluctantly agreed to continue. She commanded one of the Inquisition’s scouts to send word that their return would be delayed. U’Din wondered why it hadn’t been that female shem who had met them at the gate before, but he supposed she was elsewhere now.

As they made their way out of the city, their little party had a few encounters. The first had been a merchant who, out of the kindness of her heart, offered to provide the Inquisition with food to help them. U’Din had asked Cassandra for her opinion, and while she told _him_ to make the decision, she seemed pleased that he had asked her. Strangely enough. After that came a messenger of a Vivienne de Fer who, apparently, wanted U’Din to attend her salon. When he found out that she was some sort of big shot—a First Enchanter or whatever the heck that meant, the blond elf’s immediate response was _no thanks_ , but Solas convinced him to think about it.

“Perhaps she is interested in allying herself, Herald.” The hedge mage informed him. “We need all the help we could get. I feel that there is no harm in at least talking with her.”

Yes, _talking_. With someone. That always convinced U’Din, yes! But the look Solas gave him made the blond agree to think about. Just think, of course.

Finally, they bumped into a certain figurehead who, to their knowledge, had been hiding somewhere in Redcliffe. U’Din slightly perked up at the sight of another elf, but hearing her reasons for meeting up with him made him deflate.

“If it’s help with sealing the Breach you seek, then perhaps you should look among your fellow mages, child.” Grand Enchanter Fiona said after introducing herself formally, even after Cassandra declared who she was.

While it was a nice enough suggestion, the “child” at the end made him bristle. _Child_. Why did people keep calling him that? He was no child!

“I’m not part of any sh— _human_ circle, Grand Enchanter. I hardly doubt that we have anything in common other than the shape of our ears.” He replied politely enough, but the slight bite in his tone made his companions look at him.

Fiona seemed amused by his reply, however. She declared that they had more in common than he’d think, and that he was invited to Redcliffe to meet with the rest of the rebel mages. She even mentioned an “alliance.” Solas looked amused after she bid them farewell and left.

“Interesting. The leader of the rebel mages approached _us_. Not the other way around.” He said. He turned to the party and added, “Perhaps the rebel mages are a more viable option, after all?”

“If they’re friendlier than the templars, I say give it a go.” Varric said. Then, he shrugged. “But I’m okay with either. I just want to fix this shit.”

“We should return to Haven and discuss this there. This is hardly an appropriate place to discuss our plans. Who knows who could be listening in.” She said. After sharing a look with U’Din, she started walking out of the city. “For now, let’s go meet with this “baddie” of ours.”

When U’Din walked past the gates, he felt another cold chill run up his spine—that same chill that carried the voice from before. He looked around briefly, brows furrowed in suspicion, before he shook his head and carried on. A human-shaped wisp followed him, ducking in his shadow.

Solas frowned at the empty space behind the Herald.

 

* * *

 

U’Din stared warily at the gate leading to the alley. He turned his head to look at Cassandra. “Are we really doing this, Lady Cassandra? This seems so...”

“It’s because it’s suspicious that we have to investigate. Though, like you said before, we must proceed with caution.” She said. She went over to the gate and frowned at the lock. The warrior turned to Varric. “Varric, could you—“

“I got it, I got it.” The dwarf went over to the gate and knelt in front of the lock. It took barely five seconds for him to pick it. “Huh. One would think that locks in Orlais would be more... difficult.”

“Complacency often clouds our good judgment, Master Tethras.” Solas said, walking towards the gate as Varric opened it. “You’d be surprised how many fall victim to its tethering grasp.”

“Oooh, you say that like it’s from experience, Chuckles!”

Solas smiled mysteriously. “We were all young once.”

U’Din frowned contemplatively at that. Cassandra made a disgruntled grunt and told them to _be quiet_.

When they walked in the alley, they weren’t expecting guards. One could say they caught them _off guard_. Cassandra almost bashed her shield against _Varric_ for that one. U’Din personally thought it was funny, though he didn’t dare admit it. When he noticed that Cassandra was about to make a killing blow, he panicked and made the guards fall asleep with a spell.

They turned to him, giving him a look. He just fiddled with his staff nervously. “I-I panicked. I didn’t want to kill them.”

“You’re such a kindhearted soul, Willow.” Varric said, putting away his crossbow. “Breaks my little heart every time you show it.”

U’Din looked away in discomfort. What was the big deal? Wasn’t it normal to not want to kill anyone? Death was awful. Maybe not for the four of them or the Inquisition, but it could be for these guards’ families. Their wives, their children—

“It won’t make much of a difference once they wake up. We’ll have to permanently eradicate them if that happens.” The warrior said, sheathing her sword. “Let’s move on.”

U’Din tried not to think about that as he followed her.

They reached a pair of doors and, cautiously, U’Din came forward to open it. He sensed something hot from the other side, and he immediately knew it was a fire spell. He evaded quickly and easily since the offender didn’t seem all too serious in hitting him. Yet.

“What the balls?” Varric yelled behind him, looking back at a burning crate.

“Herald of Andraste!” A new voice spoke, and they turned to see a masked man standing a few meters away. The weird mask didn’t make sense to U’Din, and he was so busy thinking about that that he almost didn’t catch what the haughty shem was saying. “How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!”

U’Din blinked and rubbed his arm. “Err, pardon, mister, but who are you?” He ignored a cackle behind him. Also the amused “good one, Willow!”

“Lies! I’m too important for this to be an accident!” The shem declared haughtily, posing in that strange position the shems in Val Royeaux seemed to like. It didn’t seem too practical to U’Din. “My efforts will survive in victories against you _elsewhere_!”

“ _Elsewhere_?” Cassandra bellowed, walking to the front. “Who are you? What is your—“

She was interrupted by a sharp cry and the sound of blood spilling. They looked to the source and found an elven archer standing over the guard’s corpse. She stretched her bow and smirked.

“Just say _what_!”

The shem turned and asked, “What is the—“

U’Din felt bile rise up his throat when he saw the arrow shoot through the man’s head. Just when he was a few feet _away_ from it. He would have made a disgusted noise at the sight, but the newcomer beat him to it.

“ _Augh_! Squishy one, but you heard me, right?” She said as she approached the corpse. She kicked it once. “I just told him to say _what_. But rich tits always try for more than they deserve, don’t they?”

U’Din blinked. “I don’t—“

“Blah, blah, _blah_!” She put stress on the last word just as she pulled out the arrow from the shem’s face. U’Din scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Obey me! Arrow in my face!”

“What’s _her_ problem?” U’Din heard Varric whisper to Solas behind him. The blond would like to know the answer to that, himself.

“So you follow the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re—oh piss balls, you’re an _elf_!” The blond archer spat the word like it was poison, twirling the bloody arrow in her hand and spreading the blood around. U’Din tried not to look queasy as he looked at his soiled boots. “Argh, knew I jinxed it when I shot that arrow. Shouldn’t have said anything. Oh, well. Here’s hoping you’re not _too_ elfy, yeah?”

U’Din blinked. “Um, _what_?”

“Oh, but it’s all good, innit? You’re the _Herald_ thingy!” She said, _finally_ dropping the arrow. But she did that so she could gesture emphatically. “You glow and stuff, yeah?”

“I... don’t think so.” Just to be safe, U’Din looked down at this form. He didn’t seem to do any glowing. Or shining. Shimmering. He looked up at her warily, though he still attempted to be polite. “You sent the message? About someone conspiring against the Inquisition?”

“Conspiring? Huh. No idea, actually!” She admitted with a shrug. “My people just said that the Inquisition should look at him. Didn’t bother asking them why.”

U’Din frowned a little at that. The man was hostile towards him, yes, but he didn’t plan on killing him at all. Let Cassandra do the beating and bring him back to Haven for questioning, yes. But simply _killing_ him without attempting to interrogate him? That didn’t sit well with U’Din at all.

“The name’s Sera, by the way! And that over there is Cover. Get round it before the reinforcements come!” She said in rather quick succession. U’Din was surprised he could even follow her, still. “But don’t worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They have no breeches, hah, hah!!”

Before U’Din could ask what _that_ meant, guards arrived and started charging at them. Without any... trousers on. Oh, dear. U’Din could hardly keep his eyes up where they should be, much to his mortification. He could hear Solas chastising Sera for not taking their weapons, but the archer still kept screaming BUTTS or NO BREECHES.

 

* * *

 

“So, Herald of Andraste, huh?” Sera crossed her arms over her chest as she surveyed him. U’Din felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Then she clasped her hands together and said. “You’re a strange one, but I’d like to join your little band of thingies!”

“ _Thingies_?” Cassandra sounded absolutely indignant at being referred to as a “thingy.”

U’Din’s brows furrowed as he looked at her. What... a peculiar person. But not only that, but for some reason she was rubbing him the wrong way. Which was a strange thing in itself because the blond was usually polite to people. But there was something about Sera that made him awfully ill-tempered.

“Who are you?” He asked warily. “You gave us the information about that man you just killed, claiming that he was an enemy of mine. Or something like that. But _how_ did you know that? _Who are you?_ ” He repeated.

“Told you the name’s _Sera_. And I knew because some people knew, and they told me! And I told _you_ because I get what you want.” She answered, apparently unaware of his rising discomfort. “It goes like this, see...”

And U’Din listened. And listened. And he listened even though listening was something he didn’t _want_ to do because wow, Sera just got on his nerves for some reason. And he was appalled at himself because she didn’t even do anything to earn his ire! He was a pretty mild-mannered person. So why was he acting this way towards her?

“So you’re offering spies?” Cassandra spoke up when he didn’t. He didn’t even catch what had prompted her question. “The Inquisition has spies already. I don’t see what your _people_ have to offer that our spies don’t have.”

“Here’s how it is: you _big_ , _important_ _people_ are up here. Doing big, important things, stomping around and going _crush you_ , no, crush _you!_ ” Then she made strange, kissy noises. “ _Ooh, crush you_ —ahem, what was I saying?”

U’Din didn’t really bother following after that. He just let the others do the listening while he pretended to pay attention. He was just so focused on _why_ he didn’t want to listen to her. She unsettled him immensely. Why? Was it her earlier jab at him for being an elf, despite the fact that _she_ too was one? Was it the way she talked? Her hair? U’Din didn’t know. All he knew was he... disliked her. Quite a bit.

“The point is, I just want things to get back to the way they were before. Like you guys!” She declared with a finality, making U’Din believe that she and Cassandra had been arguing. Sera turned to him and asked. “So do you need people or not?”

U’Din frowned. He turned to the Seeker and asked. “Lady Cassandra?”

“Why are you deferring to _me_ , Herald?” Cassandra said. Though there was that satisfied look on her face again. Like she was happy that he was asking for her opinion. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do, though? Weird. “If you ask me, I’m unsure of what exactly she and her people can offer—“

“ _Ugh_ , I just said it, didn’t I?!”

“But she is an archer of skill. We might be able to take advantage of that.”

“Her information comes from an unorthodox source,” Solas began, folding his arms behind him. “I do admit that it might serve a good purpose. While spies among servants and the unassuming is not an original tactic, it is effective enough to give positive results. Most of the time.”

“Speaking from experience _again_ , Chuckles?” Varric stared up cheekily at the hedge mage.

Solas just smiled mysteriously again. U’Din blinked at him.

Sera, on the other hand, was starting to get impatient. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “So what? You guys want my help or not? I _know_ I can help, but if you guys are gonna take friggin’ long to decide then I’m outta here.”

U’Din was tempted to stall just for that. But the looks on his companions faces pressured him to make a decision. He sighed; why did it _always_ have to be him? And even though this Sera didn’t seem likeable to him, he didn’t really have the heart (or courage?) to say no.

So he nodded and said, “I guess it wouldn’t be too bad. There’s a use for her people like you said, right? And she _does_ have good aim—“

“HAHA, BRILLIANT! So, to Haven or whatever, right?” She said, slinging her arm across his shoulders. She didn’t see the displeased look on his face because she faced the other companions. “Let’s get going! Time’s a’wastin’. To the Inquisition Fort! Or whatever!”

 

* * *

 

Sera scrunched up her nose as she looked at the Inquisition “stronghold.” She turned to U’Din, looking unimpressed. “ _This_ is it, then? This is the mighty, shiny Inquisition?” She gestured at the settlement below, looking at them in disbelief.

“You were expecting grandeur?” Varric joked as the rest of the party traveled down the slope.

“No, no, it’s fine, yeah? I just thought, well, that it would be bigger.” She said, gesturing emphatically, imagining some sort of fortress, no doubt. Then she snorted. “Pfft, hah, hah! Hear that? I meant the stronghold but it sounded like— _hah_!”

U’Din rolled his eyes. The longer he spent time with her, the more he began to realize _why_ she seemed to tick him off. She reminded him of... someone he knew. Someone not as incoherent maybe, but someone as equally annoying and... crude. Not to mention clingy. He sighed when he remembered the argument he had with that certain someone before leaving his clan.

U’Din was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the party parting ways when they reached the settlement; Sera started wandering around and Varric followed her _just in case_. Solas had gone back to his hut on their way to the Chantry, sparing U’Din a concerned look before retreating to his hut.

The Herald was still thinking deeply when they reached the Chantry, so he didn’t notice Josephine standing by one of the pillars. He jumped when he heard her voice. “Herald U’Din! You’ve returned!”

He scratched the skin under his leather glove when he heard her refer to him by name. He was still kinda pissed at Solas for revealing that to Cassandra who, in turn, revealed it to the three important shems. But that was mostly his fault, he thought. He should have expected it to be brought up sooner or later.

He just wished it had been _later_ instead of sooner.

The blond realized that the advisors and Cassandra had been discussing things without him which, to be honest, was actually a welcome change. Maybe he could slip away without them noticing? But before he could even attempt that, Commander Cullen had directed a comment at him.

“We heard that the templars had abandoned the capital. As _well_ as their senses.” The former templar said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was probably the trick of the light, but U’Din thought he saw concern flash in his eyes for a moment. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” U’Din pointed at himself. Then he rubbed the side of his head. “Nothing happened. And that’s... probably a bad thing, huh.” He sounded dejected as he directed his gaze to the floor.

Leliana raised a brow. “A bad thing? Why would you being all right be a—“

“That’s not what I meant. I—“ He paused to adjust the strap of his satchel on his shoulder. “I was supposed to talk to them, right? Make... peace. But I failed. And I made the templar order look down upon us. I’m really sorry.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Herald U’Din!” Josephine reassured him, sounding aghast. It was as if she couldn’t believe that U’Din would blame himself. Why wouldn’t he, though? _He_ was there. He would know what happened, and he clearly failed.

“Lady Josephine is right.” Cassandra said, looking at him sternly. “You being there was a testament of your willingness to negotiate, Herald. It was the Chantry leaders who had erred, not you. Had they not been blind to their own fear and prejudice...”

She let it trail off right there to let _him_ continue it himself, he bet. But he didn’t see how her words made sense. But instead of arguing against her, he just shrugged. He was tired. He was also unaware of the concern on the advisors’ faces.

“In any case, we have opportunities to approach the templars _and_ the mages.” Josephine began, though she still looked at the Herald from time to time.

“True, but Lord Seeker Lucius has taken the order somewhere. The question though is _what_.” Leliana tucked her chin behind her fingers as she thought. “My reports have been _very_ odd. It troubles me.”

“We must look into it, then. I’m sure there are _some_ templars in the order who do not support the Lord Seeker.” Cullen said, obviously leaning towards approaching the templars for help. U’Din had been thinking the same thing too, but it’s not like his opinion mattered or anything.

“Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.” Cassandra said, regret and dismay in her voice. “But there was that one templar who questioned him in Val Royeaux, so there _is_ hope.”

“There is, of course, the option of the Herald approaching the rebel mages in Redcliffe instead.” Josephine chimed in, making U’Din lift his head up at being mentioned.

“You think the mages are more united?” Cullen scoffed, shaking his head. “It could be ten times worse. The templar order is a much safer option. We can’t risk—“

“The rebel mages possess far more magic than the templars do, Commander.” Josephine tutted, raising a delicate brow. “Even if you try to argue otherwise, they are far more likely to succeed in helping us close the Breach than the templars.”

“Why don’t we ask the _Herald_ , then?” Leliana said, turning to face U’Din who had been content to watch them discuss. “He’s the one who’s going to do all the dirty work. Might as well make him decide, yes?”

“True. In the end it does not matter who we approach.” Cassandra nodded. “As long as we act _now_.”

At that moment, all four shems were staring at him, and U’Din could feel himself sweating buckets. A large part of him—the one that’s hidden deep, deep inside his mind (and was getting louder every passing day, he noticed) told him to simply say what was on his mind. He had thought about it already and believed that approaching the templars would be more practical, considering they were warriors as well as magic suppressors. He had this nagging feeling that approaching the templars would have less casualties, as well. He didn’t understand why, but he told Solas that anyway. Also, it was possible that whoever had caused the Breach in the first place would retaliate, and therefore the templars would be more useful for war. He had a few more ideas, and they all leaned towards the templars.

But why would _they_ care about what he thought, though? He was just a nobody.

“I... don’t really have an opinion.” He said neutrally, not looking at them. “I’m fine with either option. Both seem to have their own advantages.”

“Yes, but what do _you_ personally think is the best faction to approach?” Cassandra pressed, her voice taking a dangerous edge that U’Din became all too familiar with. It was the same voice she used whenever she was starting to get annoyed with him.

U’Din frowned; what did _he_ do?

“Why would my opinion matter?” He avoided the question by making his own. “In the end, it’s _you_ who gets to decide what happens. I don’t see why my input would matter if that’s the case.”

“We’re asking because _we_ , ourselves, cannot agree on anything.” Cullen replied, though he sounded a bit defensive. “Why would you think that your opinion wouldn’t matter? You’re the Herald!”

“And you _do_ have an opinion.” Leliana added, looking pleased with herself. “You wouldn’t have asked why yours would matter if you didn’t.”

U’Din’s face reddened. He sputtered. “I-I really don’t. Have an opinion. Look, I really don’t want to decide, all right? Please don’t put this all on me. I don’t want to—“

“ _Herald_.” Cassandra gritted out. She walked towards him, then leaned so close that U’Din could practically see the _fury_ in her eyes. “A _word_.”

She didn’t say anything more than that. The warrior just started stomping out of the Chantry, and U’Din was glued to the spot. He shook a little as he turned to see her angry form leaving the building.

“I suggest you follow her, Herald.” Josephine’s soft voice made him jump. She looked gentle. Sympathetic. “You wouldn’t want her coming back here to _drag_ you out.”

He was screwed. _Fuck._ He gulped and nodded, turning around to follow her. But not before bowing slightly at the other shems. When he turned around again to scurry after the warrior, the advisors shared concerned looks.

 

* * *

 

“Well? Still think I’m imagining it?” Leliana began once they reached the privacy of the war room, and the two advisors sighed.

“When you first spoke about it, I didn’t believe you. But then,” Cullen looked back where he last saw the Herald and scratched his head. “This is absurd.”

“You sent scouts to look for Herald U’Din’s clan, did you not?” Josephine said, facing Leliana. She looked troubled. “I really don’t want to pry into our Herald’s business, but if it would help—“

“I have the reports. The herbs we found in his satchel before could only be found in specific areas in the Free Marches.” Leliana explained. “My scouts did a little digging in some of the villages and found out that there’s a semi-nomadic clan of elves settling there. It might be his, considering they trade with _this_.”

She procured a small purse from her pocket, and while it didn’t look much, the material very much resembled the one the Herald’s satchel was made from. Josephine reached out to inspect it.

“So it really _might_ be his clan, then! Have you sent scouts?”

“I’ll be sending a few of our elven scouts to make contact with this clan. Its name is clan Lavellan.” Leliana said, occupying her usual spot in the War Room. “I was thinking of informing the Herald of our plan, but I decided against it.”

“Why?” Josephine asked, looking perturbed at the thought of deceiving their Herald. “You think he would be against it? If it really _is_ his clan, then—“

“He’d protect it.” Cullen crossed his arms, silent realization in his eyes. He nodded in understanding. “I’ve been wondering why he wouldn’t mention his clan. Normally Dalish are... proud of their origins, aren’t they? But U’Din never talked about it. He either hates his clan, which he never hinted, or—“

“He doesn’t trust us enough to tell us anything about his clan.” Leliana nodded slowly, coming to the same conclusion as well. “Trust issues. He’s wary of us.”

“I can’t imagine why. Have we offended him?” Josephine picked up her clipboard and browsed through a few pages. Apparently she had a page dedicated to their Herald, and she inspected her notes on him. “After our rather _embarrassing_ mistake of not asking for his name, I’ve researched all that I could on Dalish culture to make him more comfortable with us. But clans tend to diverge from one another in that respect so I could only make intelligent guesses. Oh, what if we had done something—“

“I doubt we’ve done anything. But he’s probably... anticipating it.” Cullen said. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I should have seen it. I’ve met a few recruits like him before, so indecisive, so—“

“Insecure.” Josephine finished quietly. She made a little note before looking at her peers, eyes searching. “What should we do?”

“For now, contacting the clan is our only chance of making him feel more at ease with us. If we prove that we only seek to be friendly, then that should solve everything.” Leliana replied, though her answer seemed to lack the confidence she usually had when making a plan.

Shortly after, all three advisors agreed to contact clan Lavellan with their elven scouts, and Leliana placed a marker on the southern part of the Free Marches. She stared at it and sighed.

She hoped they were making the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huhu I felt like that sucked. But wow, such progress, right? Or not. Huhu. I really hope you guys aren't too bothered with the pacing; I'm planning on making this pan out differently than in the game. Not too much to be completely new, but... fresh. I guess. And no Solas/U'Din interaction here either! So sorry :(( But I think it's gonna be like, slow build. Should probably put that in the tags, yap.
> 
> Do leave a comment and tell me what you think! I really do get motivated if I know people really like this. :) Thank you for reading~!


	8. Letting it Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... got excited. OTL I was going to post this when I reached a certain hit count, but then I was like, "wtf I'm not doing this for the hits", so here you go. An early update. And it's the longest chapter so far, I think. Haha. I actually have the next... seven chapters written out already? HAHAHA. I dunno, I'm on a roll, you guys. Anyways, hope you enjoy this :))
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd, as usual. Will correct mistakes later on :)

_The first time it happened, U’Din had been unprepared._

_He was usually really good at keeping his temper in check. Usually very nice, very understanding. But today he found himself in a heated argument with one of his fellow apprentices. She was trying to teach him the “proper” way of forging ironbark because he did it the “impractical” way. He didn’t understand why “faster” and “more efficient” could be impractical, so he tried reasoning with her._

_Not even bothering to let him finish, she snorted and walked away. “Go ahead and keep being stupid. Idiot.”_

_The condescension in her tone, the insolence—it made U’Din see red. And then it happened. He couldn’t remember_ how _, but at first he felt something in his mind pushing forward. It was... It felt like him, but at the same time it was... different. Like a secret part of him stored away. Because of that, he didn’t remember fighting it. He let it out, and—_

_U’Din watched in horror as the aravel he had struck burnt to ashes. It was the new one he and the other apprentices had just finished making. It took them a week and a half to build it. And now... it was gone. Gone as fast as his temper did._

_He ignored his clansmen crowding around him, whispering and pointing at where the aravel once stood. He didn’t pay attention to what they were saying, or if they were saying anything_ to _him. He just... stood there. Staring. Shaking._

_Then the Keeper appeared in front of him._

_She narrowed her eyes at him and gestured to her tent. She didn’t have to explain; U’Din knew from the way the frown on her face settled that he was in trouble._ Big _trouble. He tried his best to ignore the clan’s stares, Ellana’s smug smirk and Mahanon’s concerned frown._

 _After being scolded by the Keeper, he promised to himself_ never again _._

 

* * *

 

U’Din wrung his hands nervously as he followed the Seeker out of the Chantry. They passed by an unfamiliar warrior who looked like he was waiting for something. Someone. He felt like he should do something at least, but U’Din was too afraid of Cassandra to tell her about it.

She had her back to him, not acknowledging his presence as she led them to the side of the Chantry, secluded by shadows and corners. He stopped a few feet away from her, watching anxiously as she paced around angrily. He gulped when she deliberately stepped on the two elfroots sprouting from the snow; poor things. He jumped suddenly when the Seeker started rounding on _him_.

“All right, _speak_.” She reached out and, paralyzed, U’Din had no choice but to let her drag him deeper into the corner.

“W-What do you mean?” He asked when she said no more than that, and he was thankful when she finally let his arm go. He rubbed it distractedly. “D-Did I do something wrong? I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“ _Enough_!” Cassandra barked, slamming her fist against the stone wall. “Tell me what your problem is _right now_.”

 _Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now._ Her very first words to him echoed in his head at that moment, and he found himself going cold. It had nothing to do with the climate in the Frostbacks, however. Slowly averting his eyes, he took a deep breath before speaking.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Cassandra. I don’t have a problem.” He replied quietly, shuffling his boot into the snow.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then _kindly_ explain your atrocious behavior a while ago.”

 _Explain **this**. _ He shook his head. “I-I wasn’t trying to be—“

“That is a huge _lie_ , Herald!” _You’re **lying**!_ “I’m getting tired of you doing this! Whatever it is that’s keeping you from doing your duty needs to be addressed. And we’re going to do that _right. Now._ ”

The word made him pause. Duty. _Duty_. That word. That _fucking_ word. He hated being reminded of it and what it meant; he wasn’t stupid, he _knew_ what it was! He also hated it whenever people kept reminding him what _his_ duties were. He began seeing red.

He knew. He fucking knew what it was. He knew duty. _He knew it more than most._ Why did they keep questioning him?!

 _The living can wait. The dead won’t._ He clenched his fists.

“There is nothing to address.” He said in a tone Cassandra never heard him use before. It was firm, almost commanding. But he didn’t seem to notice the change in his own demeanor because he turned to actually _look_ at her in the eyes. Undaunted. Unafraid. Unlike him. “Whatever problem you think I _have,_ Lady Cassandra, I can assure you I do not have it. I do not appreciate you accusing me of things that I am absolutely _not_ guilty of.”

“Then why, _pray tell_ , do you refuse to participate in meetings?” She asked, gesturing towards the general direction of the War Room. She challenged his glare with one of her own. “Do you believe me _blind_ , Herald? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your attempts to deflect discussions, or deferring to me and the advisors when you are asked of your opinion! That is _not_ the kind of attitude that you’re supposed to possess. Not as Herald. I suggest you _deal_ with whatever nonsense that’s making you act so pathetic!”

Pathetic. _Pathetic_? Of all the—U’Din wanted to seethe, to grit his teeth and strike the Seeker where she stood. But he controlled himself. Barely.

“Think of it what you will, Lady Cassandra. But this _pathetic_ attitude roots from my unwillingness to be responsible for more deaths, more casualties!” He said, pointing a finger in the direction of the Conclave. He looked pained, in grief. “You don’t understand how _painful_ it is for me to see so much death! To be the cause of it is something I refuse to do! I will bear any type of burden you shems force on me—but not this. Not—“ Flashes of them killing templars, mages and other enemies invaded his vision, making it difficult for him to breathe.

So much death. So much suffering. And he can’t even offer anything to appease their souls. He heard a whistle in his mind, and he held on to his satchel distractedly.

“Don’t be _naive_! What do you expect to gain from a weak attitude like that?!” Cassandra barked at him after she tried to absorb what he just said. When he refused to answer, she continued her angry tirade. “You are the _Herald of Andraste_! It is your _duty_ to stop this madness; protect the weak, the innocent—and if that means you have to spill the blood of the wicked, so be it!”

“Who told you that? _Why do you believe that_?!” U’Din asked with a frantic voice, gesturing wildly. “There is no evidence that I am the Herald of some dead _shem_! No evidence of my circumstances being the will of your stupid Maker!”

“That dead _woman_ is Andraste, _elf_! Show respect!!” Cassandra warned, approaching till they almost touched. U’Din was too busy seething to notice. “And how _else_ can you explain this? You possess the power to close _rifts_. That mark on your hand could have been bestowed upon _anyone_ , but it had to be you. That should _mean_ something! _You’re_ the Herald!”

“You mean _this_? This—This _thing_?!” U’Din removed the glove covering the gash on his palm—the mark sparked, as if as angry as he was. “You think this is a testament of your Maker’s will? Proof of my so-called destiny to represent a dead woman?! Then take it! I don’t fucking want it! Cut it off, if you must!”

“That is _out_ of the question! We have no idea what cutting off that mark would do to you!” Cassandra was hysterical, as if she never even _considered_ doing such a thing to him and was offended that he even suggested it. “Such drastic measures _will_ have repercussions! We cannot risk it!”

“But you’d be willing to _consider_ if there weren’t any, right?” U’Din clenched his fist, the mark still glowing dangerously; green lights blared along with the tempo of his increased heart beat. “Why would you settle for an _elf_ as the Herald, after all?! You’d probably be more content with a shem, instead! If it were only possible! But _no_ , you’re stuck with me. Pathetic, weak me! You would get rid of me if you could but you fucking _can’t risk it_!”

“H- _Herald_!!” The Seeker sounded so offended, so taken aback by his words. She looked at the mark in his hands and noticed it flashing and, to her mortification, growing in size. She raised her hands in front of her. “Herald, your mark—“

“That’s all I am to you all—a scapegoat. A fucking tool to use as you please!” He started ranting, pacing angrily and unknowingly causing the snow under his feet to melt and turn to water. His violet eyes started flashing dangerously, too. Had they been so vivid before? Cassandra never noticed until now. “Do you shems take me for a fool? _You_ are the fool! I am not to be tempered with! You know not what I’m capable of!”

“Herald?” Cassandra looked so confused, so... shocked. She watched him seethe and rage in a way she never thought he was capable of doing. It was unexpected. Fearsome. She felt magic pulse around them and, cautiously, took the shield from her back and put it in front of her before attempting to approach the elf. When she got close enough, she spoke, “Herald, I—“

“ _Enough!_ ” U’Din’s shout came with a powerful mind blast. So powerful, it slammed the Seeker against the wall. She let out a pained cry and groan as she slid down to the ground. The wall behind her cracked from the impact.

U’Din’s eyes flashed once before his erratic breathing started slowing down. The snarl on his face slowly vanished, and he blinked several times before shaking his head. The mark also stopped flashing, but a quick glance at it showed that it had grown. Changed. The elf looked back at where Cassandra was and gasped.

“ _Lady Cassandra_!” He shouted and quickly went over to her side. He helped her sit up properly and inspected her form. She didn’t seem to have any scratches or wounds, but from the way she clutched her head didn’t look very reassuring. “A-Are you okay?! I’m so—I had no idea what—“

And then he saw it. She looked up at him, brows furrowed and eyes questioning. She looked at his mark, then back up at him. There were several emotions flashing in her eyes. Pain, confusion and... fear.

He did it again.

U’Din crawled away at the sight of it, and he looked down at his hands. He... He had caused Cassandra pain. He hadn’t meant to, but he did. He... did it again. _Again_. He choked back a self-loathing sob and stood up.

“H-Herald—“ Cassandra tried reaching out for him, but the pain prevented her from continuing what she wanted to say.

It was all the time U’Din needed to blur away.

 

* * *

 

It had been hours since the awful incident, and U’Din could see the orange-pink hue of the sky from the mouth of his little “tree cave.” He had blurred away as far as he could, and then found a big enough tree to hollow out and hide in. He hadn’t moved from his spot since he first sat in it, paralyzed by shame and fear. But he deserved to feel that way.

He had hurt Cassandra. She had only been doing her job, but he got so defensive and angry and—he didn’t know what else. He blamed himself for letting his control slip, for letting _that_ part of him consume him again. The part that desperately wanted to speak its mind, to show the world what he _truly_ wanted to do. The... real him, he supposed. And just a few hours ago, it did just that. It came out and did what it wanted to do. And U’Din was so, so ashamed of himself.

He let out a shaky breath as he opened his satchel. He needed—he needed to calm down. He took out his mother’s ocarina, the crystals slightly dull from a few weeks of neglect. He rubbed those parts clean using the fabric of his shirt, and he took a moment to gaze at the bright, purple stones.

What song should he play? Or should he even play at all? Creating such noise would most likely attract wildlife—or the Inquisition soldiers!—to him. But... he needed this. Just a few notes of soothing music will help him. Maybe it could take away the hurt, the shame, _that part of him still loudly shouting in his head._ Even for a while.

He brought the mouthpiece to his lips and blew. But the moment he made the first note, his mark sparked and caused him to cry out in pain. He almost dropped his ocarina because of it. He gasped, looking at the mark in confusion. The gash had turned into an intricate design that spiraled on his palm, then coiled a few inches on his wrist. The coiled part on his wrist also seemed to be popping out of his skin like veins, and they throbbed quite painfully. He touched a vein and hissed. He put the ocarina back in his satchel.

“U’Din?”

The blond elf yelped and backed up further into his little tree cave, hiding. He swallowed when he saw the bottom half of a person appearing in front of the entrance, and he assumed the worst. But then he paused. Those pants—

“H-Hahren?” He peeked from the gaps of his fingers, and he saw Solas bending a bit to look at him. The hedge mage inspected the little shelter he made and, despite the circumstances, smiled.

“You’re hiding in a tree again. Why am I not surprised?” He teased lightly, patting the thin bark.

U’Din frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It was just an observation.” Solas knelt in front of the entrance, and he looked at U’Din with that smile on his face. U’Din couldn’t tell if it was fond or teasing. He didn’t know why it would be fond, though the thought wasn’t at all... unwelcome. _Ugh_ , what was he thinking?

But then Solas turned somber. He sighed and gave him a stern glare. “I heard about what happened between you and Cassandra. You shouldn’t have done that, da’len.”

Automatically, the blond was on the defensive. But he willed it down, not wanting to do anything to Solas. No, no, not hahren. Anyone but hahren. _Evil, evil part quiet down, will you?!_ Instead, he bit his lip and shifted his body away from the older elf. He whimpered.

“They must hate me now, don’t they?” It was more of a statement than a question. He embraced himself in self-pity, glancing over his shoulder. “ _You_ must hate me now. I lost control of my temper, and now they’re probably planning some way to get rid of me. But I suppose it was inevitable. I’m a fool. I’m a monster, I _hurt_ her—“

“U’Din, _desist_!” Solas’ loud reprimanding tone made the blond shut up. He turned his head again and almost whimpered at the way the hedge mage looked at him. He looked... disappointed. _Pissed_. “While it is true that what you had done was terrible, _inexcusable_ , wallowing in self-pity is _not_ the answer. Nor is hiding away.

“You have to _stop_ this behavior, da’len.” Solas scolded him lightly, edging closer until he was inside the tree himself. U’Din tensed at how close they were at that moment. “You have to learn to take responsibility for your actions. You are a brilliant elf; skilled in so many ways. But your attitude still reflects your young age. You have to stop acting like a child!”

“I’m not a _child_ , hahren. I’m thirty. By winter I’ll be thirty-one.” He bit out. Part of him believed that he would regret saying that last one, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. “And I know my responsibilities. I was Second, and even though that might not really mean much to you, I knew what duty is. I live by it, and I try my best. Even if my best isn’t exactly the best—“

“That way of thinking is _also_ unbecoming, U’Din.” Solas interrupted him, firm but somehow still gentle. When U’Din turned to look at him again, he seemed less pissed, but still very much disappointed. U’Din hated that look the most. “This—This _insecurity_. It’s a horrible trait that traps you, paralyzes you. Keeps you from doing what you need to do. You have to get over it.”

“It’s not that easy.” U’Din said quietly. He shook his head. “You don’t know what it _feels_ like. You’re smart, you’re skilled, you’re... not a failure! I—I _do_ try my best not to be a burden, but I’m not used to this. I don’t _want_ to be a leader. I don’t want to be part of this shem-infested movement! I don’t... want to be a hero! I just want to go back to being Second!”

“ _Hush_.” The blond almost jumped when he felt a warm hand on his back. It started moving up and down his back. U’Din slowly turned to see Solas looking at him gently and _wow_ , how did he get so close?

“U’Din, please calm down.” His tone still had that reprimanding edge to it, but it wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t condescending. It was... nice. Solas had a nice voice, U’Din thought distractedly. “Panicking about it will not solve anything, and I believe that is what caused this in the first place. I do not claim to know why you’re like this, what had caused such behavior. And there is much that I do not know about you and your past...

“But you must know that I believe you to be smart, skilled. And definitely not a failure.” A small smile found its way on Solas’ face. An attempt to calm him down, U’Din thought. If that’s the case, it was working. Sort of. “I’ve seen you fight, and I’ve seen you strategize. I’ve seen you value the lives of others—more than your own life, even. While I believe that is a troublesome attitude, it’s a testament of your compassionate soul. You’ll be surprised to know how very few people like you exist nowadays.”

U’Din blinked, and he was slightly surprised when a tear fell down his cheek. He rubbed it away self-consciously. “Y-You’re just saying that, hahren.”

“I do not say things unnecessarily, da’len.” When U’Din gave him a look, he smiled. “ _U’Din_. You should know that I always speak my mind, and I do not coat my words in honey. I say what needs to be said, in however manner is appropriate. And now I’m telling you that this—this _self-loathing_ needs to stop. Whatever it is that’s keeping it alive also needs to be put to an end.”

“When you’re a failure, you can’t help but hate yourself.” U’Din said so quickly and surely, Solas was convinced it was a statement well-practiced.

He frowned at the blond. “What exactly _have_ you failed to do? Did something happen with your clan? Did you do something terrible as Second?”

“I was a mess. I blew up an aravel once, you know. It’s uncannily similar to what happened with Lady Cassandra.” He winced at the reminder and closed his eyes. “I got angry and... I blew things up. I’m also not good at anything but guiding dead people and babysitting the kids.

“The Keeper doesn’t trust me enough to bring me to events. The First thinks I’m stupid. The best hunter in our clan treats me like a toy. The entire clan _hates_ me.” U’Din drew in a deep breath. “I’m a wreck. I’m a _failure_.”

“What I gathered from your narrative was that the aravel incident was an accident, U’Din. You were young when that happened, yes?” At U’Din’s slow nod, Solas continued, “Mages tend to have lack of control of their magic at a young age. That’s why we study and practice how to be better at it.

“But what have you failed to do, exactly?” He asked. “What did you do that made you give yourself such a title?”

“I... I dunno.” U’Din admitted. For as long as he could remember, he had always felt like he had been responsible for... something. Felt so uncomfortable in his own skin, like it wasn’t even his. It made him so fearful and anxious as a child. And now, here he was. He sighed. “I just feel like I can’t do anything right, hahren. I was an average, measly Second, and now I’m expected to give orders? Offer opinions? _Be responsible for people’s lives_? I helped the dead go to wherever they needed to go. I helped people _not_ die. But I was never responsible for making people do something and hope that maybe, possibly they _won’t_ die. That’s—“

“Whatever you were before, whatever you were _used_ to before, that’s not true anymore. That’s a reality you have to face.” Solas cut in sternly when he noticed that U’Din was panicking again. “I know you don’t accept it, but now you’re the Herald of Andraste. You’re the only one able to seal rifts and fix the world. You possess the mark, the—“ Solas cut himself off when he glanced at U’Din’s mark. Its new appearance immediately made his eyes widen in concern. He reached out for his hand so fast U’Din didn’t even see him move.

“H-Hahren?” He asked, worried about the way Solas was inspecting his hand. He bit back a hiss when the older elf touched the throbbing vein coiled around his wrist. “ _Ah!_ H-Hahren, don’t touch it—“

“ _What happened_?” Solas’ voice was low, dangerous. It almost reminded him of how Cassandra spoke to him a while ago, but he felt that it wasn’t directed at him this time. The man’s eyes were sparking and vivid; U’Din couldn’t help but be slightly mesmerized. “What happened to the mark? Why didn’t you tell me it changed? How—“

“I-I didn’t know. I—“

“What were you thinking?! Do you realize what this could mean? What if you can’t seal rifts anymore? What if it’s consuming you again?! What if—“

“I’m sorry!! I wasn’t really thinking when I... when I ran away.” U’Din apologized; his face red with shame and guilt. “I didn’t really even notice until minutes before you arrived. All I know is it kinda... hurts when I touch it now. I-I really don’t know, but I know I should have noticed it sooner and I’m sorry—“

“This—This is _alarming_.” Solas sounded afraid, and in turn U’Din became afraid. Solas also looked like he regretted the way he spoke to U’Din because he patted the back of U’Din’s hand, a silent way of saying sorry.  “The mark is our only way of sealing rifts, and if, somehow, it has been corrupted, we are in a big amount of trouble. There is also the issue of it hurting. If it’s consuming you— _fenedhis_. Is it troubling you?”

U’Din gulped at Solas’ words, and he nodded in reply to the man’s question. “K-Kinda. I mean, before, I hid it with a glove. I even forgot about it sometimes. But now I can _feel_ it again, like it’s right beneath my skin. It also hurts when I touch it here—“ He pointed at the veins on his wrist.

“How is the pain?” Solas asked, inching much closer to U’Din. Their bodies almost touched, and the very thought of their bodies pressing together made the blond nervous. “Is it as painful as that time? Right before you sealed the first rift at the Conclave?”

The blond shook his head. “N-No. But it can get... close sometimes.” Like a while ago. He looked at his bag. “But when you touched it, it was like a really bad sting. Like a fennec bite.”

The comparison made Solas snort, but he still looked serious when he spoke. “That’s still worthy of concern. You... Do you remember what caused this?”

U’Din shook his head. He really had no idea. All he knew was that it happened when he was arguing with Cassandra, and even _that_ was kind of a blur. He remembered what he said, but he couldn’t remember when the mark started changing. He wasn’t really paying attention to his hand when he was ranting like crazy.

He sighed in despair. He was such a fool. Ellana was right—he was doomed to be a failure all his life.

The blond looked up when he felt a flow of magic course up his arm. He saw Solas pouring some of his magic into his hand, and while it didn’t change the mark, it made it stop throbbing at least. Solas looked _so_ concerned about it, like he thought he would be able to change it back. He poured his comforting magic on the mark again; U’Din couldn’t help but sigh.

“It seems like whatever change occurred, it’s now permanent.” Solas sounded absolutely _bothered_ by that. U’Din couldn’t really blame him; if it really affected the way he sealed rifts (if he could even _seal_ rifts anymore), then he fucked up big time.

He yelped when he was suddenly pulled up, and he grabbed his staff right before he was pulled out of his little shelter. The sun had set, and the sky was turning dark. He looked around the dim area and gulped; did he hear a _wolf_?

“It’s getting too dark and cold to stay here. We should do this quickly.” Solas said quietly, pulling him to a clearing. When they reached it, the hedge mage let go of him and pointed at a spot a few feet away from them. “There. Summon a rift there.”

“W- _What_?” U’Din sounded aghast. S-Summon a rift? Right here? Could he even do that?! “I-I don’t know—“

“You opened the rift at the Conclave, did you not?” Solas asked, ever rhetorical. “If you can seal rifts, you can open them. Also, you can _summon_ one. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

How would _he_ know? He didn’t have the blasted thing on his hand! U’Din looked at his hand and at the spot where he was supposed to summon a rift. He frowned at Solas. “Hahren, are you sure? I mean, I don’t even know how to do that.”

“We have to find out if you can still use the mark, U’Din.” Solas explained; his brows meeting in the middle. He was worried, and he had every right to be. “If your mark really is corrupted, we have to find out _now_. And then we would need to face the others and tell them. It would not... be an ideal situation at all if that were the case. But that is why we have to do this.”

U’Din shuddered as he thought about the possible consequences if he did, indeed, lose the ability to seal rifts. They should already be resentful of him for hurting Cassandra, but if they found out that he also corrupted the mark as well? He might as well find himself a nice burial spot now while he could.

“O-Okay.” He nodded, understanding the situation clearly. Summoning a rift terrified him, but he had no choice, did he? This was his fault. He looked around unsurely. “Um, how do I, err, _start_ summoning a rift? Do I just, well, think about it?”

“Just think about how you sealed those rifts and use the same method in reverse.” Solas instructed him. He made a gesture with his hand; the same pose U’Din adopted whenever he was closing a rift. “You don’t have a tear to open this time, but you should easily make one yourself. Just focus on a spot and channel your magic into the mark. That should do it.”

“What if... it works?” He asked tentatively, looking at his mark. “Wouldn’t it summon demons as well? How are we going to deal with that?”

Solas paused at the question, and then he smiled thinly. “We’ll deal with that later. _If_ it happens.”

U’Din nodded, accepting the answer, vague as it was. “Okay.”

“When you are ready.” The hedge mage said. He pulled his staff out of its holster and pointed at a spot. U’Din gulped and nodded.

He walked a bit, looking for a suitable place to make a tear. He heard Solas following close behind, quiet but supportive. It boosted his confidence a bit, and he settled for a spot near a row of boulders. He took in a deep breath and assumed his _rift pose_ , holding his hand out. Closing his eyes, he imagined a small tear into the space he picked. He envisioned an imaginary knife, poking at the Veil, then pressing, _ripping_ —

His mark sparked, and he hissed at the stinging sensation he felt. The coils around his wrist throbbed at the same tempo of his heartbeat, as if it really _was_ a vein. A small, bright tear formed in the spot he picked, and it grew and grew the more he channeled his magic into the mark.

Solas watched in pure fascination as the tear formed out of thin air. He watched the younger elf struggle with pain, yet pressed on to carry out his task. It didn’t take long for the tear to get big enough to open.

When it finally opened, a small swarm of demons appeared in its wake. U’Din gasped. Solas cursed. The hedge mage rushed over to U’Din’s side and grabbed his arm to blur them out of harm’s way. When they were at a safe distance away, Solas put a barrier on the two of them.

“You can still summon rifts. That’s a good sign.” Solas sounded relieved. _Too_ relieved, considering they had just summoned _demons_ , too. “But now we must deal with _them_. Can you fight?”

“O-Of course!” He said, brandishing his staff. U’Din focused his attention on the demons heading their way. The claws on that Shade made him gulp; those things can easily slice through their thin, useless armor.

“Cassandra and Varric aren’t here to help us, obviously, so it’s just us.” Solas summoned a few ice glyphs around them to trap the demons once they reached them. “Do you know any offensive spells that affect a wide area?”

“A few.” U’Din said as he summoned chained lightning. The demons staggered, but they pressed on. “ _Dammit_. I think I should disrupt the rift! That weakens them!”

“Go ahead! I’ll distract them while you do that!” Solas vanished in a blur of icy blue, and some demons followed him. Others chose to pursue U’Din. The blond cursed.

He too vanished in a cloud of blue and appeared near the rift. He summoned a chain of lightning again to paralyze the demons chasing after him, and immediately after he summoned some magic to disrupt the rift. It was painful too, but he bore it. He was nearly done when a Shade was suddenly right in front of him.

He gasped as its claws hit his increasingly depleting barrier. He turned his eyes to Solas who was too distracted with his own set of demons to put another one on him. He couldn’t put a barrier on himself if he didn’t want to interrupt his current casting!

He felt the barrier vanishing, and for a moment he thought he was done for. But in a blink of an eye, white flashes appeared in front of him and the Shade suddenly backed away in pain. The wounds on its body looked like they were caused by... _blades_? Another round of flashes appeared in quick succession, staggering the demon until something pierced its back and killed it.

 _‘What?’_ He thought bewilderedly. The rift throbbed, signaling its successful disruption. The demons still alive were staggered, and he took the opportunity to summon the strongest lightning spell he knew to quickly eradicate them.

Solas gave him a nod, and when the rift changed and signaled the next round, they stood at the ready.

The second round was much harder, but the strange, invisible flashes helped U’Din disrupt the rift again. They also appeared near Solas from time to time, and the blond knew that the older elf noticed. But the two of them were too smart to question it now; they had to close the rift they had stupidly summoned in the first place.

The last terror fell, and U’Din quickly ran near the rift to seal it. He had expected the pain, so he was more prepared for it when he felt it. He endured it for a few more seconds before he successfully sealed the rift, eradicating any evidence that it was even there.

He knelt on the snow, exhausted from the stress. Solas appeared next to him, breathing heavily. He knelt beside U’Din and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” He asked after catching his breath. He took out two vials of Lyrium potion, giving the other one for U’Din to drink. “You have quite the endurance. I never saw you use a potion once.”

Nor did Solas, U’Din thought, but he kept that to himself. He gratefully accepted the offered potion and consumed it, prompting the older elf to consume his as well. After finishing his, U’Din let out a satisfied gasp and said, “Y-Yeah. I think so. But I don’t want to do that ever again. Please?”

“Agreed.” Solas let out a breathy chuckle, and he shook his head. He looked too happy for a man who just faced demons with only magic. Though U’Din felt like they should be proud for such a feat. “But now we know you can still seal rifts. That’s... good. Though the pain you feel troubles me greatly, still. Is it bearable?”

“I-I can take it.” U’Din replied, feeling guilty again. “It’s my fault in the first place. I should... deal with the consequences. That’s what you all want, right? For me to take responsibility?”

The mood then turned somber. Solas sighed and said, “U’Din, I meant what I said a while ago. You should get past this insecurity of yours. It’s hindering you from performing at your best—and no, don’t dare deny that you are skilled!” He reprimanded when U’Din looked like he was going to protest.

“S-Sorry.” The blond said. Then, he frowned. “B-But it’s not easy, you know? You don’t understand how—“ He cut himself off and embraced himself. He sighed and shook his head.

Solas let out his own sigh. “I... can understand that it’s difficult for you. I really do. Regardless, being negative all the time isn’t going to help you. Your insecurity paralyzes you, hinders your growth. You may be used to it, but one day it’s going to get you killed. And you and I both know that you cannot _afford_ to let that happen. Ever.”

U’Din pondered on it. Logically, what Solas said made sense. That noisy part of him agreed with the older elf wholeheartedly, but the blond didn’t really pay attention to _that_ part because that was what caused this whole mess with Cassandra and his mark in the first place. So his pessimistic mind focused on how foolish he was, how much he failed. How much he—

 _“Don’t feel that way. It’s not your fault.”_ A calm, soothing voice filled his ears, and he found himself looking up at nothing. _“What happened earlier was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s good to let your feelings out; it helps you heal and grow. Cassandra isn’t even mad at you. She feels bad, you know.”_

 _‘She does?’_ He thought to himself. He looked around warily, wondering where the voice is coming from. Solas was giving him a weird look.

“U’Din?” He asked. When his eyes met U’Din’s, he further asked, “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

 _“Stop blaming yourself. It isn’t your fault.”_ The voice continued, gentle and soothing like a balm for his soul. _“Go back to Haven. You’ll feel much better if you talk to her. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure.”_

He... probably would. Should. Like Solas said, he should take responsibility. He hurt Cassandra, so he should do the right thing and apologize. Hiding will just make things worse. And the voice said it would make sure. Whatever it was. Yeah. That sounded like a good plan.

“We... should probably go back, hahren.” U’Din said, sounding slightly dazed. And maybe a bit too serene. He completely ignored the suspicious look Solas gave him. “The others might be worried, right? I should... take responsibility and apologize.”

“...Yes. That is why I came looking for you in the first place.” Solas revealed, and both of them stood up. As they started walking, the hedge mage gave U’Din a curious look. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not—“

“I’m fine, hahren. Just... Oddly confident at the moment.” U’Din admitted, also wondering about his behavior. He couldn’t remember where the sudden boost in confidence came from, but he was glad it was there. Sorta. “Let’s just go before I hide in _another_ tree, yes?”

Solas lightly chuckled at that. “Agreed.”

The two walked in silence, and Solas summoned veilfire to light their way back. Before they vanished into the trees, Solas paused and looked around the clearing they had occupied. His eyes narrowed as he focused on an area where he remembered seeing flashes of white. He turned moments after, quickly catching up to the still-dazed Herald.

He made a note to himself to keep a close eye on the spirit following U’Din.

 

* * *

 

Despite his confidence boost, he still held on to the sleeve of Solas’ shirt as they quietly made their way back to Haven. He knew it was stupid, probably even annoying to the other elf, but Solas didn’t push him away or anything. When the settlement came to view, U’Din gulped and held on to Solas’ shirt even tighter. The older elf still didn’t say anything as he put out the veilfire.

U’Din concentrated on the way his boots crushed the snow, how the wind blew his hair into his eyes. It was getting longer, he thought. Should he have it cut? He ran out of that special salve his Keeper made to keep his hair from growing so fast. He should have asked for the recipe. The right side of his hair was getting that little ponytail he hated so much, too. He didn’t know why that grew longer and faster than other parts of his hair but—

“See _reason_ , Lysette! We cannot stay here!” U’Din heard someone nearby say. He turned his head up and saw two people talking near a fire.

“Why not?” A woman in a templar armor crossed her arms over her chest, raising her brows challengingly at her companion. He sighed.

“Because we’re templars, that’s why! If we stay here... What happened at Val Royeaux—“

“What does that even mean anymore? That we splinter and fight amongst ourselves instead of protecting the mages?!” She cut in forcefully. Then, she sighed. “What happened at Val Royeaux was wrong. I’m not joining them. If you have enough sense left in you, you won’t either.”

U’Din walked too far away to hear what came after _next_ , and even if he did want to stay he wouldn’t have been able to focus on them because—

“ _Herald_!”

That voice. The blond froze in place, effectively trapping Solas as well. The hedge mage looked at his hand and then back up at him. U’Din... was quite strong.

“Herald!” Cassandra ran out of the gates. Solas wondered if she had ordered someone to keep an eye out for them and inform her once they came back. She halted in front of them and asked, “Are you all right? Where did— _are those scratches_?”

The blond gulped and hid his body behind Solas. He was shaking. The bald man took pity on his companion and decided to answer for him.

“May we take this to the Chantry? Or somewhere private, at least?” Solas said, gesturing to the Chantry with his chin.

Cassandra bit her lip and nodded. “Very well.”

They walked through the gate in uncomfortable silence. U’Din still held on to Solas, much to his own embarrassment, but Solas didn’t seem to mind. Not many people were out tonight.

When they reached the inside of the Chantry, U’Din gulped at the sight of the advisors, Varric and Sera there.

“Now, can you _please_ explain those scratches? And the state of your clothes?” Cassandra said once the doors were closed. She didn’t like wasting time.

“Scratches?” Leliana asked, then she looked at the two elves. She blinked. “Were you two attacked? What happened?”

“We had... encountered a few wolves on our way here.” He said. Discreetly, he stepped back to nudge U’Din, silently telling him to not react to what he was saying. “Nothing serious. Just three of them.”

“Wolves were able to _scratch_ you? I find that hard to believe.” Cullen frowned suspiciously at them. “Those rips on your clothes don’t look like they’ve been done by wolves either. It would have ripped completely if they bit and pulled on it, wouldn’t it?”

“You’d be surprised to know what magic can do, Commander. You should try it.” Was Solas’ deadpan reply. He cleared his throat. “In any case, the Herald and I are fine. The encounter was simply... unexpected.”

“Yeah right. Three wolves, not much of a problem, eh?” Sera was also there, much to the mages’ annoyance. They also didn’t miss the way she was narrowing her eyes disapprovingly at Solas. Or rather, at the person hiding behind him.

“Again, the encounter was unexpected. And we _are_ just mages.” Solas defended, then gestured towards their clothing. “We’re not equipped to defend ourselves properly without the help of warriors and rogues.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure. But _just mages_ can also knock back people and make their heads spin and bleed. Yeah. Just mages.” She didn’t even bother hiding her resentment. Obviously, she heard of what happened between U’Din and Cassandra and was not afraid to speak her mind about it.

U’Din sighed. They _did_ hate him now. Great.

“Come now, Buttercup. Stop picking on poor Willow. It was an _accident_.” U’Din heard Varric say in his defense, though he didn’t dare look up to see what the dwarf looked like. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in the crossbowman’s face. Solas’ had been enough.

Sera huffed. “Yeah, an accident that involved crushing someone’s _brains_ —“

“ _Enough_.” Cassandra warned, and the tone in her voice made U’Din gulp nervously. He heard footsteps, and his eyes widened when he saw the Seeker’s clothes at the corner of his eye. He heard her sigh.

“Herald, you can stop hiding now. I—I’m _sorry_.”

The blond tensed. He finally looked up and blinked at the regret showing on the warrior’s face. Well, he didn’t expect _that_. What... What was he supposed to say to that? Wasn’t _he_ the one who was supposed to apologize? Wh—

He felt something warm and soothing graze the back of his neck, and a surge of confidence filled him. It was that boost again. Solas tensed under his hold, much to his surprise. But what surprised him the most was him standing much straighter, and then turning to face the Seeker. She looked the same way she usually did, but there was hesitance in her eyes. Like she was anticipating his reaction.

“I... I’m sorry, too.” He breathed out, and then bowed his head to play with his fingers. “I—I don’t know what came over me a while ago, Lady Cassandra. I didn’t mean to hurt you! I never did! But you must think of me a monster, don’t you? That’s okay. I’m a fool, a failure, a—“

“Herald, _calm yourself_!” Cassandra held his shoulders and shook him a bit, effectively shutting him up. The confused and fearful look on his face made the brunette sigh. “It’s... It’s _fine_ , Herald. Absolutely fine. I am also at fault; I had provoked you, upset you. I merely wanted to question you, but I ended up taking it too far. You need not feel so horrible.”

U’Din heard her words, but he didn’t really _listen_ to them. All he could see was a small sign of bandaging around the Seeker’s neck. A bit around her head. The sight of it made his hands shake and sweat; _he_ had done that. He had caused her pain. Him! Stupid, foolish, _horrible_ him!

“B-But even if I was provoked, I shouldn’t have done that!” He shook his head frantically, looking at the floor in shame. “I let my temper get the best of me, and because of that I hurt you. What if I do it again? I’m a danger to everyone if I can’t control myself—“

“ _Ugh_ , mages!” Came the rather unhelpful retort from a certain archer. Then she cried out. “H-Hey! Who did that?!”

“What I did was _wrong_ , Lady Cassandra. I’ll—“ He gulped. “I’ll accept _any_ punishment you see fit to give. I know I deserve it. I’m _really_ sorry, I—“

“Maker’s breath, _please_ calm down, Herald!” Cassandra finally let his shoulders go, but she was still close. “What you did wasn’t as horrible as you think. I’m not angry—no one is. Yes, _no one_.” She sent Sera a quick glare.

U’Din bit his lip. “B-But—“

“ _U’Din._ ” She used his name to get his attention, and she was successful in doing so. “What you did was an accident. And I forgive you for it. Now, will _you_ forgive me?”

“T-There’s nothing to forgive! It was my fault.” The blond said, bowing his head a little. He looked up at her tentatively. “A-Are you sure you’re not mad? I mean, what I did was—“

“I am not. I had been too harsh with you, and I simply paid the price.” Cassandra said, nodding her head a little. “I will... be more patient in the future. But _you_ must promise to at least take your duty more seriously.”

 _That_ word again. He bristled a bit, but a slight nudge from Solas calmed him down. He remembered the older elf’s own scolding, so he shut up that noisy part of himself and nodded at the Seeker.

“I’ll—I’ll _try_. I mean, I’ll do my best.” He quickly corrected when Cassandra gave him a look. “I’m not used to these things, so I would... appreciate your patience. And guidance. From all of you.”

The advisors exchanged looks, frowning at each other. But they all looked encouraging and understanding when they spoke up.

“We’ll do our best, Herald U’Din.” Josephine spoke up. “If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“We can give you books to read, if you wish. Perhaps more knowledge will make you more confident in your endeavors.” Leliana suggested, looking at the other advisors. Josephine looked absolutely thrilled at the thought.

“Of course! Knowledge is power, after all.” The Inquisition ambassador made notes on her little clipboard. “Having grown up Dalish, you aren’t very aware of much history regarding humans, are you, Herald? I shall order some books—“

“I can offer you lessons on battle and strategy.” Cullen offered, nodding to himself. “Yes, that would do. Maybe even introduce you to some _contacts_ —“

“We have a few books on magic that may help you control yours better, if it would set your mind at ease.” Leliana informed him. “If you’re concerned about causing another incident, maybe it would be best to look into human methods of arcane practice.”

U’Din blinked at all of them. They... wanted to help him? That was so... peculiar. A bit embarrassing even, but he did admit the thought was... comforting. He felt that warm, soothing feeling again.

 _“You did well. Did I help?”_ The disembodied voice said. _“I hope I did. I’ll be here if you need me again.”_

He felt the warm presence vanish, and he twitched and looked around for it. Solas also looked around, but was much more subtle in doing so. The blond mage let out an _‘oof’_ and looked down to see Varric beside him.

“You had us all worried there, you know! Running away like that.” There was humor in his voice, but also a bit of relief. “Next time the Seeker scares the crap out of you, just give me a visit, okay? I can teach you how to deal with this scary lady when she’s in one of her moods—“

“ _Dwarf_.” Cassandra began warningly. Varric just laughed.

“First lesson: just laugh it off.” He winked cheekily up at U’Din.

“ _Ugh_ , sappy. I’m going to the tavern. Am starving.” Sera made a little face and then made a dismissive gesture. She gave U’Din a strange look as she passed him by, but she didn’t say anything to him after that.

“Buttercup’s idea isn’t too bad. Bet you’re starving too, Willow.” Varric said. “Come on. You and Chuckles haven’t eaten yet, I bet. Let’s grab a bite to eat.”

The thought of eating tempted U’Din. So bad. But when he turned to face the advisors to silently ask for permission, he had a thought. “Um—“

“Is there something wrong, Herald?” Cassandra asked.

“I... actually have something to say.” He began, thinking back on the arguing templars from earlier. The lady templar sounded really regretful about what happened at Val Royeaux. Perhaps not all the templars in the order agreed with that cruel leader of theirs? It... was possible. And he still stood by his opinion on the templars.

U’Din bit his lip and turned to Solas. The hedge mage looked confused at first, but the expression on the blond’s face made him realize what he wanted to do. Smiling, Solas gave him an encouraging nod. U’Din took in a deep breath before speaking again.

“I have an opinion.” When he turned back to the shems (plus dwarf) they were all looking at him curiously. He sighed before adding, “About the templars.”

Cullen couldn’t help it; despite the serious situation, he let out a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Lots of drama happened here. But yey, character development! Sorta. And tons of Solas/U'Din interaction! :))) That was probably the best part, heh. After this, there'll be more interaction between them! I promise. 
> 
> Sorry again for the length. And the pacing OTL But this... is how I write omg. It's really introspective and long and I'm so sorry. :(( This fic will also be HELLA LONG, I believe. I've written out like, outlines for forty chapters so far. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'M SO SORRY. If the length bothers you, you can stop reading. I... I don't mind /cries
> 
> Please, please, _please_ let me know what you think! I don't really care about hits, but I do wish I could get more feedback! :)) It drives me to update much faster, really! We might even reach 10 updates (or more hurr) by the end of the month if I'm happy. XD Haha, was that bribery, you ask? Maybe. :P 
> 
> But in any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING AND READING AND KUDOS-ING AND COMMENTING. ;_____; I love you all!!


	9. Mascot Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was serious when I said I didn't care about hits :)) The comments made me so happy! I'm floored, honestly ;____; I know I keep saying this, but THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO LEAVE ME FEEDBACK. To show my gratitude, I'm uploading the next chapter very early. :)) I don't wanna spoil you guys too much though; this might be the last update in a while. (Or not, knowing how excited I get when I get comments. Lol)
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter! It's quite long :))
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Will correct any mistakes later on! :)

After U’Din summoned the courage to speak his mind about the templars, it became pretty clear what the Inquisition was going to do next. However, the blond honestly didn’t understand why they needed _him_ to offer his opinion before making a move. After all, Commander Rutherford had been some sort of... knight-commander, was it? No? In any case, he knew warriors (who had the ability to _suppress magic_ , by the way) were a much more practical choice than mages in terms of fighting wars. And the shem certainly had the influence to steer the Inquisition to that direction if he _really_ wanted to.

But no. They had to wait for _U’Din_ to talk about it before making a decision. Shems were so... wishy-washy. They talked too much, as well. Why, if _U’Din_ had been in charge—

“Right now, I don’t think the Inquisition has enough influence to approach the order safely.” Cullen said as they looked at the map in the War Room. “Perhaps we need more agents in more places. I suggest exploring new areas and getting more connections.”

“I agree. And that’s something the Herald can help with.” Cassandra nodded, turning to look at U’Din. They _all_ looked at him, actually.

U’Din looked back at them in confusion. “ _Huh_?”

And that was how U’Din ended up traveling to Orlais the next day to attend a Vivienne de Fer’s salon. He forgot all about it, actually. U’Din supposed he didn’t mind, but that was before he was told that _he_ was the one personally invited, so he had to go _alone_. He almost fainted at the thought of going to an important shem’s party by himself, but he was reassured that there would be back-up. Outside.

(Cassandra knew him well enough at that point to stop him from hiding in another tree after they told him that. He made a mental note to himself to start looking for _other_ places to hide in. Boulders, perhaps?)

When he arrived at Chateau de Ghislain, the first thing he did was stare wide-eyed because _wow_ , it was so huge! The inside was even better; U’Din couldn’t help but be attracted to the unnecessary extravagance, the music, the _splendor_. He should be shaking his head at the impracticality of it all but... he couldn’t explain it. Seeing the estate made him nostalgic in a way, which was a strange thought in itself.

“Lord U’Din, on behalf of the Inquisition.”

The blond felt anxious when his name was announced, and the shem who called out his name just gave him a curt nod. He gulped and rushed out of the man’s sight. He got even more nervous when a pair of rich shems talked to him.

“Pleasure to meet you, my lord.” A man in a mask greeted him pleasantly, much to U’Din’s confusion. He seemed so... nice. “Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome. Your arrival is like a refreshing breeze on a mundane, humid day.”

“Um, _thank you_?” U’Din said. Gee, he had _no_ idea how to act in events like this. Josephine taught him a little bit of Orlesian noble culture but... fuck, he was nervous. What if he messed up?

The man laughed good-naturedly. “So you must be a guest of Madam de Fer, yes? Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here on business?” The lady beside him asked, and she sounded excited to be talking to him. That made U’Din even more confused. “I’ve heard curious tales about you! I can’t imagine half of them are true.”

“Tales?” U’Din asked before he could help himself.

“Some say when the Veil opened, Andraste herself delivered you from the Fade!” The lady said excitedly, and U’Din could see through the holes on her mask how wide her eyes were. “Is that true, my lord?”

The blond tried not to make a face in front of these people. Ah, so they heard about him being the Herald of Andraste. He probably shouldn’t be surprised, but being recognized made him itch. He _really_ disliked the thought of being the herald of some key figure in the shems’ religion. Or in any other religion. He forced a small smile before speaking.

“I... believe some of those storytellers may have gotten carried away.” He replied diplomatically, still maintaining his smile. U’Din felt his heart beating wildly against his chest; he was so nervous about making a mistake.

“But only for the best effect!” She said, not minding the subtle dismissal of the tale. “The Inquisition is a ripe subject for wild tales. It’s quite thrilling!”

They heard someone scoff from somewhere, and they looked up to see a nobleman making his way towards them. He was shaking his head and gesturing with his hands.

“The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit!” He said upon reaching the bottom of the stares. “Washed up sisters and crazed seekers! No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.

“And for the _inferior_ to vainly attempt to attain something better than they’re worth.”

Big and Noisy bristled in his head. U’Din told himself to calm down before assuming a less threatening pose. “What we’re attempting is to restore peace and order to Thedas, my lord. Our cause is far from political.”

“Here comes the outsider! Restoring peace with an _army_?” He mocked as he stalked towards U’Din. Despite his growing fear, the blond bravely stood his ground. “We know what your Inquisition _truly_ is, elf. If you were a man of honor, you’d step outside and answer to charges—“

U’Din felt the air growing cold, and his eyes widened. He took a step back and watched the nobleman be frozen in a shroud of ice. Footsteps came from the stairs, and he looked up to see a dark-skinned shem walking down the steps with her hand stretched out.

“My dear marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house to _my_ guests.” She said, voice velvety and soothing and _dangerous_. She let her hand fall to the side as she circled the frozen man once, looking at him, unimpressed. “You know such rudeness is... intolerable.”

“M-Madam Vivienne! I humbly beg your pardon!” The nobleman apologized slowly, his words being slightly incoherent due to his jaw being frozen in place. U’Din felt a bit sorry for the man.

“You _should_.” Vivienne said. Then she shook her head at the man. “What _ever_ am I going to do with you, my dear?”

She received no reply. She turned to face U’Din who quietly watched the scene unfold. “My lord, you were the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man, hm?”

“I... beg your pardon?” U’Din asked slowly, not really sure what she meant by her question.

“This man had wronged you, my lord. Thus, it is only fitting that I give you the right to decide his fate. Which is it? Should I let him go? Or should I...” She trailed off, giving U’Din a subtle look. The blond’s eyes widened when he realized what she meant.

“ _N-No_! Don’t kill him please!” He begged, looking between her and the frozen man. “He’s—I’m sure he was only doing what he thought was best. I can’t really blame him for having an opinion. Whatever he did, it’s not worth the cost of his life.”

Vivienne considered him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. Did you hear that, my dear? By the grace of Andraste, you shall keep your life.” She snapped her fingers to release him from the icy trap, and he coughed roughly. “ _Do_ be more careful with it, hm?”

The nobleman walked away, still coughing. U’Din’s hands itched to heal the man’s throat; whatever the lady did, she must have done quite a bit of damage. Before he could decide on anything, the noblewoman appeared before him, smiling pleasantly.

“I’m _delighted_ that you could attend this gathering, my dear! I _so_ wanted to meet you.” She swept her hand to the side and said, “Come. We have much to discuss.”

The blond nodded and, before following Vivienne, turned to the two nobles he was speaking to earlier and bowed respectfully at them. He turned to follow Vivienne, hoping that he wouldn’t mess up whatever he was supposed to do next.

 

* * *

 

“Vivienne de Fer wanted to join?” Came Leliana’s pleasantly surprised query. When he nodded an affirmative, she hummed contemplatively. “I suppose it makes sense for her to ally herself to us. We’re the only ones doing something after all, and from what I know of her, she’s the proactive type.”

“Did I, um, make the right choice in recruiting her?” The blond asked, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean, I made sure to ask her lots of questions before agreeing! She seemed to have good intentions, and I didn’t sense a malicious vibe from her. But, um, I decided on my own and I wasn’t sure if that was allowed so I’m sorry—“

“ _Relax_ , Herald. You did fine.” Leliana smiled at him reassuringly. “If you thought that she could contribute to the Inquisition and help our cause, then we have no right to say anything against your decision.”

U’Din frowned. “ _Really_? But that was a big decision. I don’t think I have the right to—“

“Madam Vivienne is a mage of no small talent.” Josephine cut in at that point. “We should consider ourselves lucky that she chose to ally with us so early into our campaign. Allies like her don’t just fall from the sky, I’ll have you know.”

“But they _can_ appear out of the blue.” Leliana added, placing a few documents on top of the map in the War Room. “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they also seemed to have disappeared. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even _consider_ the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is... curious.”

“This _again_?” Cullen sighed, shaking his head. “You’re grasping at straws. Grey Wardens vanish all the time; it’s what they do if there’s no Blight.”

“That, or they’re just busy conscripting in preparation for _future_ Blights.” Josephine added, also not agreeing with Leliana’s suspicion. The Spymaster sighed.

“I can’t simply ignore this. You all know that.” She said quietly. The others seemed to understand what she meant and went silent, but U’Din just looked at them curiously.

Leliana shook her head. “Anyway, two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall.” She lifted her head to look at the Herald. “You’re going to the Hinterlands again soon, so it may be a good idea to seek him out. Perhaps he can set my mind at ease. If not...” She trailed off, going quiet. The others just looked at her sympathetically.

And that was how U’Din found himself traveling to the Hinterlands next. His main agenda was to woo Master Dennet to join the Inquisition and do a few favors here and there. But the look on Leliana’s face that time was clear in his mind; he knew that look well enough to know what it was. He felt bad for the Spymaster, whatever upset her, so he decided to look for this Blackwall after marking locations for watchtowers. The party split up in twos to look for the Grey Warden; he tried to ignore the fact that he got stuck with _Sera_ in searching for him.

“ _They_ will make this a fight. Not us.” U’Din heard a deep voice speak near the small house near the lake. He lifted his head up to see better, and he discovered a warrior talking to three villagers. Or scolding them. He couldn’t tell. “Line up there and there. No gaps!”

“Is that him? That Grey Warden thingy?” Sera spoke from behind him, using his shoulder to hoist herself up a bit. She ignored his displeased growl. “What’s he doing?”

“We’re not entirely sure if it’s him, Ms. Sera. He’s— _oww_!” U’Din yelped when he felt her whacking him on the head. It didn’t hurt, actually; he had cried out due to shock, mostly. “ _What are you_ —“

“Call me _miss_ again and I’ll kick you where it hurts, _Droopy_.” She warned, sticking her tongue out at him. U’Din bristled at the name.

“Hey, you!” They turned to see the brunet warrior walking up to them, brows furrowed and eyes suspicious. “What’s all the ruckus? Identify yourselves!”

“Ugh, your fault, Droopy.” Sera said, pushing him forward. “ _You_ talk to him.”

U’Din sputtered. Then, when the man unsheathed his sword and pointed it at him, he stopped and looked at the irate-looking warrior. He tried to smile. “U-Um, you’re Blackwall, I presume? Warden Blackwall?”

The bearded man looked shocked. “You’re—How do you know my name? _Who sent—gahh!_ ” He looked to the side and raised his shield to block an arrow.

U’Din turned to Sera and hissed, “Why did you shoot at him?!”

“I didn’t do that, Droopy!” She hissed back, bow in hand. She moved her head to the side. “ _They_ did it! Bandits!”

“Here they come!” The warrior turned to him and Sera. “If you’re not going to help, _get out_! We’re dealing with these idiots first! _Conscripts_!”

Despite U’Din’s confusion, they ended up fighting bandits after that. He mostly just stood at the sides and put barriers on everyone, and then finally to blur away when the bandits noticed him. Sera made sure to shoot at the bandits that kept following him, though. He tried not to wince when all the bandits ended up on the ground, dead.

His hand itched. He _really_ hated death.

“You’re no farmer.” Blackwall said after his inspirational speech to the villagers he temporarily conscripted. He looked at him and Sera warily. “Why do you know my name? _Who are you_?”

“I’m U’Din, Warden Blackwall. This is m— _Sera_.” He corrected himself quickly when the archer gave him a look. “We know your name because we’re agents of the Inquisition. We’re investigating the disappearance of the Grey Wardens; we have reason to believe that they may be involved with what happened at the Conclave.”

“Maker’s _balls_ , you mean you think the Wardens murdered the Divine?” The bearded warrior looked absolutely appalled at the thought. “They can’t— _no_ , you’re asking. So that means you don’t know.

“First of all, I had no idea they disappeared. But we Wardens do that, right? There’s no Blight, so we don’t exactly have anything else to do.” He defended, and then his gaze hardened. “But I will tell you _now_ : no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political!”

“Sheesh, we’re not _saying_ you guys killed her.” Sera said, crossing her arms over her chest. She pointed her thumb at U’Din. “Droopy and I here were just ordered to look for you and ask questions. Nothin’ else.”

“My companion is right.” U’Din nodded, doing his best to look unthreatening to the Grey Warden. “So far we’ve only found you, Warden Blackwall. Where are _your_ companions?”

“I haven’t seen any Wardens for months. I’ve been traveling alone, recruiting.” He swept his arm over where they fought the bandits. “There’s not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead. No need to conscript because there’s no Blight. I helped the villagers fight against the bandits by _conscripting_ them. Next time, they won’t need me.

“Grey Wardens can inspire. Make you better than you think you are.” Blackwall closed his eyes and nodded to himself, obviously passionate about his profession. The man’s speech touched the blond mage.

“So basically this guy don’t know nothin’.” Sera told U’Din. “Looks like we wasted our time here, Droopy.”

U’Din sighed and nodded at her. He bowed his head at the Warden as a show of respect. “We’re sorry for bothering you, Warden Blackwall. I suppose the Inquisition should look elsewhere for answers. Have a good day.”

The blond walked away, wondering how he was going to tell Leliana about this. The Spymaster seemed very concerned about the Grey Wardens, so he wasn’t very keen on disappointing her. He was ignoring Sera’s complaints about their time being wasted when he heard Blackwall call out to them.

“Inquisition! _Agents_! Hold on a moment!”

U’Din turned around and blinked. “Yes?”

“The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn.” The warrior began after catching up to them. “At times like these, thinking that we’re absent is just as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to set things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need _me_.”

“The offer is very honorable, but,” U’Din paused. “What exactly can you offer, Warden Blackwall? You may be skilled but—“

“The Grey Wardens have treaties. You can use them, if you like.” He explained. “Treaties give us Wardens the right to take what we need. _Who_ we need. The Inquisition may be able to benefit from them.”

“Ooh,” Sera sounded impressed. She nudged U’Din with her elbow. “Hear that? You’d be daft not to consider after that!”

U’Din glared at her slightly before frowning at the ground, thinking. Sera had a point, as much as he didn’t want to admit it; the Grey Warden treaties _would_ benefit the Inquisition. While they weren’t exactly _poor_ , they could use all the help they could get. And if using the treaties could get them more influence, more _resources_...

He sighed. _Why_ wasn’t Cassandra here when he needed her opinion?

“I suppose there _is_ merit in accepting your offer,” U’Din began. He looked up at the warrior and smiled. “You’re more than welcome to join the Inquisition, Warden Blackwall. We’ll appreciate any help you can give.”

The smile on the warrior’s face was infectious. “Good to hear. _This_ Warden now walks with the Inquisition.”

 

* * *

 

“A First Enchanter, and _now_ a Grey Warden.” Solas began conversationally as he sat in front of U’Din in his hut. He made a little smirk as he looked at the blond elf. “You’ve been quite busy the past week, haven’t you?”

U’Din groaned. “Don’t remind me, hahren. Master Dennet has provided the Inquistion horses, so I guess now we don’t have to _walk_ to get to where we need to be, but they’re making me do so much _work_.” The blond sighed and offered his left hand to the other mage for him to study. “I know I said I was going to take my “duty” more seriously but— _shit_ , why do I have to do _everything_?”

“If you know, why are you questioning it?” Solas asked as he inspected U’Din’s marked hand. He seemed really fascinated with the mark’s new design; it looked like the face of a monster with six eyes. The blond didn’t know what to feel about it. “If they feel like you’d be the most successful in extending the Inquisition’s reach, you should just agree and simply do it.”

“Yeah, but why _me_ , hahren? Wouldn’t they want shems to get other shems as allies?” U’Din squirmed under the man’s gaze. He let out a yelp when the other elf stroked the design on his palm. “ _Shit_ , that tickles! U-Uh, I mean, I have nothing against following orders. I suppose I just don’t see the logic behind what they’re doing. Most shems discriminate against elves; wouldn’t it be more efficient to use one of their shem agents instead of me when recruiting?”

“In a lot of ways, your argument has merit. However,” Solas drew back and went over to his desk. He leaned over a bit as he took down some notes. “ _You_ have the mark. _You_ can close rifts. You’re the _only_ one who can seal the Breach.”

The blond frowned. “So?”

“It means that you are the physical representation of this movement’s mission—its purpose. The more you are seen performing heroic acts and deeds, the more the Inquisition will be taken seriously and respected.”

“... So basically you’re saying that I _am_ the Inquisition mascot?” His choice of words made Solas smile at him, and U’Din took that as a silent way of saying _yes_. “Great. Do I get to wear a funny costume, then?”

“Perhaps an outfit similar to a court jester’s?”

“... Seriously.”

Solas chuckled. “You asked. Also, tights are quite comfortable. I believe you’d look good in them, as well.”

U’Din’s head shot up at the comment. But before he could ask about the comment, Solas’ little smirk made him duck his head. What... What was _that_? Did Solas really say that? He didn’t seem like the kind of person to just... He shook his head. No. He was probably just being... nice. Or weird. U’Din would bet his ocarina that he was just being weird.

“I’d rather wear something less... showy, hahren.” He said, his face still a bit red. He cleared his throat and popped open his leather collar to scratch at the skin underneath. “Plus I really don’t think I’d look good in anything tight.”

“Why do you think so? Have you tried?” The other elf countered just for the sake of playing devil’s advocate. U’Din lightly glared at the back of the man’s head.

“N-No.” He didn’t know why Solas was forcing this topic. Probably because it made U’Din squirm, and his hahren found immense satisfaction in his suffering. “I just don’t want to, okay? You can’t make me wear tights, hahren. So _there_.”

Solas turned to smile at him, but his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of U’Din’s exposed neck instead. Or rather, at what he _saw_ on his neck. He frowned. “Is that a scar, U’Din? It looks rather deep.”

“Hm? Oh, this?” With a finger, he traced the long, clean scar that ran across his neck. “I don’t... really know. It’s been there all my life. The Keeper told me I had a bad accident as a child. It was probably when my magic first emerged. Or I blew something up again.” He replied, shrugging. Then he frowned when he heard a familiar voice whisper in his ear—

_“Futile, fruitless—I’m failing. But I have to keep trying. For Dignity. For Duty. The Living can wait, the Dead won’t. The Golden One gleams, silver sword striking—”_

U’Din shook his head. What was _that_ about? Strange voice...

When he heard Solas approach, he blinked up at him, silently asking. Without saying anything, the man loomed over him, lifting his chin slightly so he could inspect his scar. The contact made him want to shiver, and the blush on his face deepened. He gulped.

“It doesn’t look like an accident, U’Din. It looks like it was done on purpose.” He observed. He tilted his head, looking at the scar in different angles. “Like a clean cut from a blade.”

“But I don’t remember getting cut from a blade when I was a child. Heck, I only ever saw one when I _made_ one. Or, recently, whenever I needed to make sure I don’t get struck with one.” U’Din said. Then, he added, “Besides, wouldn’t that mean I _died_? I don’t remember dying.”

Solas hummed, and U’Din wondered why he was so fascinated with his scar. It didn’t look much. But he supposed Solas was just taken aback that he even _had_ one. If that was the kind of attention he’d get for something like a scar, he would have to make sure his hahren never saw the _other_ scars he had.

“Your hair has grown longer.” The man said out of the blue, pulling him out of his thoughts. U’Din’s violet eyes focused on Solas’ blue ones, but they were looking at a clump of his hair held between the hedge mage’s fingertips. “But this part is extra long. Peculiar.”

“Y-Yeah. I don’t really get why it does that. I’ll cut my hair soon.” U’Din stuttered, uncomfortable at how close they were. And Solas’ position... he squirmed. “H-Hahren, you’re too close.”

“Hm? Am I making you uncomfortable?” Solas’ eyes moved up to meet with his. They looked teasing. Cheeky. _Predatory_. “Da’len?”

Snorting in embarrassment, U’Din pushed Solas away. The older elf just chuckled and moved back to his desk. The blond could still feel Solas’ breath on his skin even after he went back to taking down notes, enumerating to U’Din what he had gathered about the mark so far. His face remained flushed as he tried to focus on the man’s words; in the end, he accomplished nothing more than just twitching in his seat.

Solas talked too much sometimes. But U’Din didn’t mind it. Most of the time.

 

* * *

 

The last person he was ordered to meet was the leader of some mercenary company called _The Bull’s Chargers_. Or something like that. His name was Iron Bull. He had information on Tevinter mercenaries gathering in a place called the Storm Coast. U’Din didn’t know what _that_ had to do with them, but Leliana mentioned that the warrior who gave the message said that their leader wanted the Inquisition to “see what they could do.” Whatever that meant. But U’Din _did_ remember seeing a warrior standing outside the Chantry when Cassandra had... yeah. Not thinking about that, nope.

U’Din sighed. He _still_ had to figure why they were making _him_ do all these things and make such big decisions, but he thought about what Solas said and decided to just shut up and do whatever he was told to do. He _did_ promise to take his role in the Inquisition more seriously. Even if a small (or big, noisy) part of him protested at the idea of following those orders.

_No_ , following orders was good. That was something he was familiar with. What was he _talking_ about? Big and Noisy begged to differ, but he ignored it as he slaved away in the forge during his free time, making better equipment for his companions—old and new. Lady Vivienne and Warden Blackwall (he still couldn’t decide whether to call him _Mister_ or _Sir_ , so he decided to use his title instead) all came to Haven with their own equipment, and they were fine, but he wanted to give them something better to work with. His primary companions also needed upgrades. Their current equipment was probably getting dull.

Lastly, he figured Sera needed a new bow; the one she had was okay, but he had a better design in mind for her. One of the schematics in his father’s journals suggested the use of ironbark, but he didn’t know where to get any at the moment. Some leftover obsidian should do for now. And bear hide. Yeah, gotta have bear hide. Oh, she would need some new armor to match, too! The current one she was using looked worn out.

When he was done, he put all of the new equipment in his little wagon (he was the only one using it, so it might as well have been his already, right?). Satisfied with his handiwork, he pulled the wagon out of the forge, humming a tune and, once again, not seeming to mind the curious and amused stares from the Inquisition soldiers at the sight of him pulling such a thing.

(Truthfully, everyone found the sight quite endearing.)

 

* * *

 

“Aww, Willow, you shouldn’t have.” Varric looked at the new armor U’Din made for him. It was sturdier than the last one he made for the dwarf, and the shirt had the first three buttons missing. _Perfect_. “You know me well enough to know my style? I’m touched.”

U’Din smiled. “It’s not very hard to guess that you like exposing your chest. Not very practical, if you think about it, but I made some enhancements to compensate for it.” The blond reached into the wagon and pulled out a drawstring bag. He gave it to Varric who eyed it curiously.

“What’s this? Money? Aww, Willow, I dunno how to break it to you but—“

“It’s not _money_ , Mr. Varric.” U’Din rolled his eyes. He pulled the mouth of the bag and showed Varric the contents. “I made some upgrades for Bianca. I noticed the grip you’re currently using is starting to wear, and I came up with a better module for her, too. This arm component I based on the one you already have, but I suppose you can say I enhanced it a little. It’s not much because I don’t really make crossbows, but I hope these would serve you well.”

The dwarf eyed the components one by one quietly. He blinked up at U’Din with a strange look on his face. Then, before the elf mage could think that he had offended him, Varric laughed.

“You never fail to surprise me, Willow! This is great. Awesome. I’ll hook these babies up to Bianca and let you know what I think.” He put the components back in the bag and placed them on the side. Then he considered the elf before him. “You know, for just an _apprentice_ you seem to have a knack for stuff like this. Crafting, I mean. I haven’t met many people who could make components for _Bianca_. You sure you weren’t some legendary blacksmith in your past life?”

For some reason, the thought of being a _blacksmith_ amused him. Why, if he _ever_ had a past life, he would be... well, he just rolled his eyes at the joke and snorted. “I doubt that. I just do what feels right. And please do tell me if the components work. If they don’t, I’ll do my best to make better ones.”

“Sure thing, Willow. Sure thing.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before U’Din decided to leave. He had to give one other person their new equipment, after all. As he was pulling his little wagon away, he missed the contemplative frown on Varric’s face.

He parked the wagon near the trebuchets and looked down at the last piece of armor and the newly-made bow. He sighed.

All that’s left was... Sera. He still didn’t know what to make of the other elf; she was crass, crude and... crazy. Not really the kind of person he would want to spend time with for more than a few minutes. If at all. U’Din felt bad for disliking her without bothering to get to know her, but... _ugh_.

She reminded him _so much_ of Mahanon. And anything remotely similar to Mahanon warranted an automatic dislike from U’Din. Still, he wanted to... _try_ being nice. It wasn’t her fault she resembled the asshole. He should give her a chance. Now, if he could only find her—

His eyebrows shot up when he saw her standing in front of Seggrit’s makeshift shop. She was frowning at the wares, and Seggrit was frowning at _her_. U’Din immediately went over to her.

“This the best you got?” Sera was pointing at a few bows lined up on the table. She didn’t look very impressed. “You’d think something like the Inquisition could afford better wares. I can’t even kill a _nug_ with this!”

The shopkeeper huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you don’t like it, _miss_ , then I suggest you just walk away.”

“But you’re the _only_ merchant here! And what’s with the pricing?! It’s _extortion_ , what yer doin’, and—“

“Ms. Sera?” U’Din called out when he was near the blond archer. Sera turned around and blinked at him.

“Oh. Droopy.” She was so surprised to see him she didn’t even notice him giving her a title again. Then, she pointed at the “shop” with her thumb. “Get a load of this, eh? This guy has absolutely _nothing_ good to sell, yet he prices them like they’re rare or somethin’! Piss!”

“Again, if you don’t like it, _scram_.” Came Seggrit’s ill-tempered response. U’Din felt like it would be best if they left the prickly shem alone.

“Uh, I have... something to show you. Could you follow me, please?” He started walking before the other elf could give a reply, but when he heard footsteps he realized that he didn’t need to wait for one.

“ _Ugh_ , what do I need to do to get some better equipment here, eh? Or some better clothes. Or a blanket. Cold as shite out here!”

He led her to the wagon and picked up the equipment. He gestured for Sera to approach, and she appeared beside him the same time he had the equipment in his arms. “Here you go.”

Sera looked at him warily, but she didn’t seem _too_ unfriendly. She eyed the folded clothes and shiny, newly-made bow with interest, though. “Wussat?”

“Your new equipment. I figured you’d need an upgrade.” U’Din responded pleasantly. When the archer held out her arms, he transferred the items to her. “That bow would have been much better if it was made of ironbark, but that’ll do for now until I get my hands on some. That new armor should also protect you more than the current one you have. I noticed some holes in them the first time I saw you.”

“...Thanks.” She said, a bit awed. She sounded touched, and it was so strange hearing it from her. Then, as if reading his mind, she shook her head and pumped a fist into the air. “I mean, _all right_ , free stuff! I guess you aren’t so bad, Droopy. Just get rid of all the magic shite and you’ll be perfect!”

U’Din rolled his eyes. He still didn’t like the name, but he supposed he could tolerate it. But couldn’t she have come up with a more creative name? At least Varric was being poetic.

When he heard footsteps, he turned to see Cassandra approaching them. She was wearing the new armor he gave her.

“Lady Cassandra.” He greeted with a shy nod. While they both agreed that everything was all right between them, U’Din still felt very ashamed of what he did to her. He was pretty sure that everyone was wary of him now, despite their reassurances.

“U’Din.” Cassandra nodded back at him. She turned to see Sera still gaping at her new equipment, a twinkle in her light eyes. She laughed. “I see the Herald has also given you new equipment.”

“Y-Yeah! And about time, too! My sleeves are about to come off. This’ll be great.” Sera felt the material of her new armor and looked impressed. “ _Shite_ , this feels like high quality. And expensive. You didn’t starve yourself to buy me this, did you, Droopy?”

U’Din shook his head. “I didn’t buy it. I made it.”

“...Wha—“

“The Herald has taken it upon himself to craft all our equipment. Crafting is his specialty, so whatever he gives you will serve you well.” Her armor glinted under the sunlight, and she looked pleased with what she was wearing. He supposed that was to be expected; her armor was the best out of all the new ones he made, after all. He reserved what’s left of his obsidian stocks for her and Blackwall, considering they were their frontline attackers.

“Huh? Wait, _you_ made this?” Sera gestured to the armor and bow in her arms. Her eyes were bulging from shock.

U’Din nodded. “Yeah. I was the apprentice to my clan’s craftswoman. She taught me everything she knew.” He left out the part about him mostly crafting on instinct and what he thought was the best way to craft a weapon or piece of armor. His being a “natural” at forging was what made Master Alayna take him under her wing in the first place, he figured.

“Seriously? Shite.” Sera whistled. She looked at him and smirked. “Well, at least you do _something_ other than glow. And knocking people’s brains out. But it’s all good, yeah? I can’t wait to try this out. Looks really sturdy and can shoot real fast. _Pffft_ , I meant the bow! But it sounded like—“

“I apologize for the delay.” U’Din turned to see Solas approaching them, also wearing his new armor. It was a bit heavier than his last one, but the extra protection it gave compensated for that. “I was reading on a few spells to add to my arsenal. I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”

“No, we were just discussing things.” Cassandra said. “But if you are all ready, I don’t see why you can’t head to the Storm Coast a little early. It would save us time.”

“Aww, I’m all right with Blackwall, but why couldn’t we have taken _Varric_ along too? At least he’s fun.” Sera said, giving the hedge mage the stink eye.

Solas ignored her completely and turned to U’Din. “Are you ready?”

U’Din patted his satchel and nodded. “I’m good. I restocked all my potions.”

Cassandra looked satisfied and nodded at him. “Good. I shall meet with the advisors. You should find Warden Blackwall and head your way to the Storm Coast. And then—“

“Wait, _wait_ a minute! We’re leaving _now_?” Sera asked, panicking slightly. She turned towards Cassandra. “I thought we were leaving later-ish. You know, _after_ eating?”

“You’ll save more time if you leave soon. And didn’t you have breakfast?”

“That was _hours_ ago! And I have to change first! And pack!” Sera said, panicking. She started running towards... well, wherever she usually stayed. “I’ll be back in a flash! Don’t you dare leave me!”

Solas and Cassandra shook their heads at her. U’Din just sighed.

Yeah. She resembled Mahanon, all right. Wasn’t that swell?

 

* * *

 

“You _left_ me.” Sera said petulantly, kicking at some rocks. “You friggin’ _left_ me. Wankers.”

“You took too much time. And it’s not that difficult to catch up.” Solas said, sounding unapologetic. He blinked when a drop of rain hit him in the eye.

“I decided to grab a quick bite to eat!” The archer defended. She huffed. “And good thing I did, too. All this walking is making me hungry!”

“Maker’s balls, where’s all this _rain_ coming from?” Blackwall complained, shielding his eyes from the rain. He made a displeased noise. “The ocean’s over _there_. Don’t need more water coming down from the sky.”

The blond nodded, running his hands through his damp hair. He idly thought about how much he missed having a hood, but when he realized what he just thought, he paused. He never had a hood. How could he miss having one?

_“Rain. Dropping, drizzling, dampening my armor. But rain is good. Makes the plants sing, sigh in satisfaction.”_ The disembodied voice from before whispered in his ear. _“I like rain. Rain brings life.”_

He smiled. Yeah, that’s true. He jogged a bit further than his companions, just to feel the rain on his exposed arms. He sighed as he let the rain run down his face, his neck.

Solas watched his movements with keen interest.

In a few hours, they reached a spot near where The Bull’s Chargers said had Tevinter mercenaries all over. U’Din still didn’t understand how that was relevant to them. Solas explained that the mercenary company simply wanted to show them what they were capable of doing.

“Why would they want to do that? What for?” U’Din said as he helped make camp. The Inquisition scouts that went along with them were looking at him in awe, as if they didn’t expect him to help out.

He frowned; why the heck not?

“I believe their intention is to have us hire them.” Solas said, sitting on a log that some scouts had placed just moments ago. Sera joined him soon after, but he ignored her presence. “Perhaps they assumed that the Inquisition would become wealthy in the future and decided to promote themselves to us while we’re still a small movement.”

“We already _should_ be wealthy.” Sera grouched beside him. “Stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than _this_. We need things to get back to normal for coins to start flowing again.”

“Easier said than done.” Solas finally acknowledged her, but he didn’t turn to face her. He just admired his new staff. U’Din liked that he seemed to like it.

“No it isn’t.” Sera replied as a matter-of-factly. “The templars and mages just need to be sat down. Both are too busy to look up where the real questions are.”

“I’m pretty sure the tragedy at the Conclave proved that it isn’t that easy, Ms. Sera.”

“First off, _what did I say about calling me that_?” The girl picked up her bow and pointed it at him. It was long enough to almost touch his nose.

“What? You mean Ms. Sera?” U’Din looked at the tip of the bow centimeters away from his nose, eyes going cross. He yelped when it poked him. “Ow! _Hey_ —“

“Nuh-uh. No way. Stop calling me that.” Sera pulled the bow back, but she was still glaring at him. “My name is _Sera_. There’s no _Miss_ in front of it. Stop it. Just. Stop.”

“Uh, but—“

“ _Ugh_ , it’s weird, all right? I don’t like it!” The archer said. When she saw U’Din opening his mouth to protest, she pointed the bow at him again. “Call me _miss_ one more time and I’ll _really_ do something. Like poke your eye out. I’m _serious_.”

Solas shook his head and sighed, leaving the other elves to argue while he checked his things. He stayed nearby, though. Just in case the rogue decided to _really_ poke one of U’Din’s eyes out. The Dalish had pretty eyes; it would be a waste.

U’Din was saved when Blackwall came back with Scout Harding and the rest of the scouting unit. He told them that they spotted two groups of mercenaries fighting along the beach.

“We identified these _Chargers_ and their leader. He’s... not what we expected.” Scout Harding informed U’Din as they quickly prepared to make their way to the beach.

The mage blinked. “Why? What’s he like?”

“He’s—well, I guess you’ll find out for yourself, Herald.” She said mysteriously. U’Din blinked at her before leaving with his companions.

They arrived at the beach and, true enough, two groups were battling against each other. U’Din winced when a warrior fell dead, soon followed by another. He itched to get the ocarina out of his bag, but he remembered what happened the last time he played it. So he kept his hand away from the satchel and grabbed his staff instead.

After asking Blackwall which one were their enemies, he unleashed a chain of lightning onto them, careful not to target one of the Chargers. The Grey Warden joined the fray while he, Solas and Sera stayed on higher ground. He noticed those white flashes appearing every now and then, too. What _was_ that, really? Before he could think much about it, one of Sera’s arrows exploded, and he almost jumped in shock. What in the—

“HAHAHAHA!” She cackled evilly. “Eat it, _eat it_!!”

Solas sighed and cast a barrier onto Blackwall. U’Din just... edged away from the archer and continued casting spells. He silently wished for the battle to be over soon. _Please_.

When the last Tevinter mercenary fell, the mages and the archer went down to join their melee attacker. U’Din went over to the corpses of their “enemies” and looked at the bloodied bodies. His hand itched to play his ocarina. But he knew he can’t. Not if he didn’t want the others to know.

“ _Chargers_! Stand down!” A loud voice commanded, and U’Din turned to see who spoke. His eyes widened at the sight of grey skin, horns and _such tallness_. Was that—was that a _Qunari_?

“Inquisition! I thought you guys would never make it.” The Qunari stood in front of them, all muscle and chest and... wow. He’s so _tall_. The horned man looked over his shoulder and called out, “Krem! How’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, chief. No dead.” A warrior appeared at his side. U’Din’s eyes widened in recognition. He was the one he saw in front of the Chantry that day!

“Ha! That’s what I’d like to hear.” The mercenary leader let out a hearty laugh and nodded. “Perfect. Let the throatcutters finish up then break out the casks!”

The warrior nodded and left to join the other Chargers. The Qunari faced the Inquisition party and nodded at them. “Drinks are coming, Inquisition. Come! Have a drink!”

“ _Yes_ , drinks!” Sera cheered, waving her bow in the air. “Do you guys have anything to eat, too? I’m _starving_.”

Blackwall laughed at her behavior while Solas just shook his head and walked away. U’Din looked at his hahren’s back, feeling somewhat betrayed that he would leave U’Din alone. He eyed Sera before smiling apologetically up at the Qunari.

“I apologize for her behavior. She’s—“ U’Din shook his head. “You must be Iron Bull. Leader of the Chargers.”

The Qunari just laughed and said that his horns usually gave that away. He led U’Din to a place where they could sit. Iron Bull sat, and so did he. Sera just went over to the casks and watched the mercenaries open it. Blackwall followed, claiming that he wanted “to keep an eye on her.” He didn’t miss his interested glance at the casks, though.

“I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi. My lieutenant.” He gestured towards the warrior who was making his way back to them.

The mercenary smiled and nodded his head at U’Din. “Nice to see you again.”

U’Din swallowed and looked at the ground in shame. He remembered seeing the warrior, but instead of greeting him he just followed Cassandra because he had been afraid to piss her off. And apparently the warrior had important news to bring. U’Din felt like shit.

“I’m... sorry for just passing by you before.” U’Din said. When his words didn’t register in the mercenary’s mind, he decided to elaborate. “Err, I saw you. Outside of the Chantry. Um, you looked like you were waiting for someone so I thought you needed help but I wasn’t exactly—err, uh. The point is, I didn’t talk to you. So I’m sorry about that. Really.”

“That’s... all right. No need to apologize.” He seemed taken aback by his apology. He cleared his throat and turned back to his boss. “A-Anyway. The throatcutters are done, chief.”

“Already? Have ‘em check again.” Iron Bull said, briefly glancing at U’Din before looking back at his lieutenant. “I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. Not after all that hard work. Heh, no offense, Krem.”

The small bit of tension hanging in the air disappeared. The lieutenant gave his own laugh. “None taken. At least a bastard knows who his mother was.” He turned and made a little wave. “Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

“ _Heh_ , bastard.” The Qunari chuckled. He turned back to U’Din and said, “So, you’ve seen us fight. What do you think?”

“Your company is... impressive.” U’Din said, recalling the battle. He ended up remembering all the _death_ , too, so he couldn’t help but wince a little. “You are organized, orderly. You don’t simply swing your swords into battle. You’re not a regular mercenary group.”

“Ha, very true! We’re the best of the best. That means we’re expensive, but obviously you can tell that we’re worth it.” Iron Bull grinned. “And I’m pretty sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

U’Din frowned. So Solas was right; they really _were_ showing off so that the Inquisition would hire them. Such tactics left a bad taste in U’Din’s mouth. Why all the theatrics? He wasn’t familiar with mercenary culture or procedures, but he was damn sure that it was the interested client who approached the company. Not the other way around.

U’Din’s instincts told him that there was something else involved. He should investigate for everyone’s sake.

“You being the best doesn’t necessarily mean that we need you.” U’Din responded quietly. When the Qunari didn’t say anything in protest, he continued. “And even if we _did_ need a mercenary group, _we_ would have come looking for you. And I’m pretty sure mercenary companies just wait for clients to go to them. It would be a waste of your time if you approached prospective clients yourselves.”

“What are you trying to say?” Iron Bull asked, though his tone was not defensive. The Qunari was calm, and his quiet stare was scary to U’Din. But the blond mage stood his ground.

“What I’m saying is, it’s not that we need you or don’t need you.” Violet met steely grey. “It’s _you_ who needs something from us. Am I wrong?”

The Qunari went quiet, opting to observe U’Din for a few moments before standing up and gesturing for the blond to follow him. U’Din’s right hand clenched before he stood up to follow; he wasn’t confident in fighting with this Qunari _now_ , but he could probably cast barrier in time to block an attack. He hoped.

“You’re a lot smarter than the reports say. Most of them just mention how good you are with that hand of yours. Heh. The Inquisition is represented well.” Iron Bull sounded pleased, if the small smirk on his face is anything to go by. Before U’Din could question what he meant, the Qunari quickly turned serious. “You’re right. We approached you for a reason. What that is might be useful. Might piss you off.”

_Ha_ , U’Din knew it. He would have acted all smug if he had a more idiotic personality. He was tempted to turn towards a certain archer who was probably busy gulping down alcohol. The elf nodded at Iron Bull, “All right, what is it?”

“Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?” The Qunari turned to him, and it was only then did U’Din notice the eye patch. Huh. He wondered what the story behind that was. “By the look on your face, I assume you don’t.

“It’s a Qunari order. They handle the diffusion and acquisition of information, maintain loyalty, uphold security, _everything_. Basically spy stuff.” Iron Bull paused. “Well, _we’re_ spies.”

“You’re a spy?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been given a mission that involves the Inquisition.” Iron Bull divulged. “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join your movement, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening every now and then.

“But I also _get_ reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, and I’ll share them with you and your people.”

“Why would you _tell_ us that?” U’Din kept his guard up. This person might have admitted that he had an ulterior motive in meeting up with them, but the word _spy_ didn’t sit well with the blond at all. Half of it was because he thought it was stupid for a spy to reveal himself and the other half... well, he was a _spy_!

“To be honest? I’m pretty sure you would find out sooner or later. You have that Spymaster of yours, yeah? It would be much easier to just reveal myself now than face a complicated confrontation later on.” Iron Bull answered, not particularly bothered by his interrogating. In fact, he seemed pretty impressed that U’Din thought to ask. “I wasn’t ordered to sabotage you guys, anyhow. I was ordered to join, get close, be your personal meat shield. I just have to send reports back to Seheron every now and then. And I can share what they send to _me_ in return. If you think about it, _you’re_ the one who’s benefitting the most from this. Not me. Not us.”

“I doubt that it’s that simple.” U’Din said, still not convinced.

“You’re right to think that it’s not. I’d consider you a fool if you weren’t skeptical.” Iron Bull said. “However, I can assure you that I mean no harm; we want this Breach gone just as much as you do. And well, no offense, but you look like you need a bodyguard. I can be that.”

U’Din’s brows furrowed as he considered his words. He was a bit offended at the Qunari’s implication (bodyguard, _ha_ ), but he couldn’t find a legitimate reason to turn down the man’s offer. Yes, he was still skeptical about the whole _spy_ thing, but what kind of spy would simply reveal that he was one?

_A good one_ , Big and Noisy said. U’Din made a little whimper.

Again, where was _Cassandra_ when he needed her?! All this decision-making was going to give him a heart attack sooner or later. He had _no_ idea what to do. What should he do?!

“I don’t... think I have the authority to make a decision about this, especially since the nature of your approach is quite...” U’Din trailed off, leaving the Qunari to get what he was trying to say. “I am not turning you down outright, Mr. Iron Bull, but I can’t really accept your offer, either. Not right now, anyway. If it’s all right with you, you can come with me back to Haven so you can speak with the leaders of the Inquisition. I’ll have to defer to them in this case.”

The frown on Iron Bull’s face showed U’Din that he didn’t expect such a grey answer. Well, what _did_ the Qunari expect? He was a _spy_! U’Din didn’t want to be responsible for endangering the Inquisition by letting a potentially dangerous spy into their midst. He wasn’t stupid. It was best to let the shems decide what to do with the Chargers and their spy leader; the blond wasn’t going to decide on this. Nope, not at all.

“Very well. I don’t see why not. We’ll meet you back at Haven, then.” Iron Bull replied after a while, nodding at him. His look on U’Din lingered even after he moved towards his lieutenant. “ _Krem_! Tell the men to finish drinking on the road! The Chargers need to pass a few preliminaries before it gets official!”

The lieutenant blanched. “What about the _casks_ , chief?! We just opened them up. With _axes_!” The warrior stressed, as if that last part would make his case even stronger. The Qunari just laughed.

“Find some way to seal them, then!” Iron Bull said, approaching the warrior. He smirked. “You’re Tevinter, right? Try _blood magic_!”

U’Din sighed and scratched his head. The look the Qunari gave him... he didn’t know what to think of it. Still, he stood by what he said; he absolutely did _not_ want to decide on this. Recruiting the spy could cause a _lot_ of trouble, and if there’s trouble, there might be... he shuddered.

He ignored the invisible pat on his shoulder and went back to his companions. After telling them that their quest was done, they walked back to their camp silently. That was, of course, until they were attacked by _more_ mercenaries. U’Din wanted to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to think I'm making Solas OOC. Am I? I'm not really sure OTL But you know, it's not like we KNOW the guy like, 100% :)) I'm doing my best to make him in-character, but I'm also adding a new dimension to him because... well, this is a Solas/Male Lavellan fic. I'm just guessing how Solas would act if he finds himself attracted to someone who gets flustered quite easily. I imagine that he would be such a teasing little shit :)) If that bothers any of you, I'm sorry OTL /cries in corner
> 
> BTW, if you guys are wondering about U'Din's slightly changed attitude, well... that was intentional. :)) If you noticed it, great. If you didn't, still great. :)) It doesn't really matter, either way! The point is there are quite a bit of hints here. Or not. Not saying anything :))
> 
> So um. I wasn't sure if the pacing was good with this one either because haha wow, this sure is chapter sure is LONG. I was going to just reference/mention the recruitment of the other companions, but I felt bad. While I'm not focusing on ALL companions in this thing, they all have their role to play in this story. So yeah. I wrote out the scenes for them. Hope that doesn't really bother you! I might edit this story once it finishes, anyway :)) So yeah. Hahe.
> 
> AND I'M ALMOST DONE WITH [U'DIN'S PORTRAIT](http://prodigal-art.tumblr.com/image/132947032526) :))) I'm proud of it so far omg. I hope I can finish it soon <3 Anyways, thank you all for taking the time to read this hideously long thing! I appreciate all kudos and comments! Love youuuuu <3


	10. Interlude II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys tired of me, yet? OTL Haha. This isn't really a chapter though, so it's not like there's much progress in the story. But I hope you still like this! It's clan matters :3
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Will correct mistakes later on :)

The Lavellan clan was quiet. And that was a cause for alarm, because usually at noon the clansmen would be bonding over lunch, entertaining the kids with stories and having a good time with friends and family. But today was different; nobody had the gall to enjoy themselves today. Not when the Keeper was so livid, felt so _helpless_. In extension, they all were. And for good reason.

Their beloved Second, U’Din, was being held captive by the shems of the Inquisition. And they had no idea what to do about it.

Keeper Deshanna had considered sending a message expressing their... _humble request_ of getting U’Din back. But with the threat of the Breach in the sky and rifts scattered around Thedas, the Keeper had been afraid to send any of her clansmen to Haven; it might cause irreversible damage. They already lost U’Din. She didn’t want to lose anyone else to outside threats.

And now Inquisition agents were here.

The elderly woman let out a frustrated sigh. They _needed_ to get U’Din back. She promised to take care of him—promised _her_ that she would make sure nothing bad happened to him until she returned for him. But it seemed like she failed. U’Din was not in the clan. U’Din was being used by the shems and crowned as the Herald of _another_ shem—a symbol of their religion and will of the shem Maker.

She had seethed when she first heard the news; U’Din, an _elf_ , the Herald of _Andraste_? _Dread Wolf end them!_

“Keeper?” She heard Ellana call from the entrance of her tent. When she didn’t turn to acknowledge her First, she heard the woman sigh. “The—The Inquisition agents. What are we to do with them, Keeper?”

“I have not forgotten about them, Ellana.” She answered quietly, looking at a beautiful, well-made staff. It was—It was U’Din’s finest work. It had been his gift to her one day; when she had asked him what the occasion was, he simply said that he thought she needed a new one. Thinking about the memory, she couldn’t help but smile. That lad. Always thinking about others.

But now he was being taken advantage by shems. She shook her head and stood up, staff in hand. Her gait and expression were not lost on Ellana; the First looked at her Keeper with concern in her light eyes.

They approached the group of Inquisition agents the clan hunters were... _supervising_. They were elves, and it was obvious the Inquisition wanted to approach them peacefully. Or at least diplomatically. But these elves were _not_ elves. Not the kind they would welcome with open arms, anyway. And the Inquisition crest on their chests made it difficult for them to appreciate their presence.

It was like they were rubbing to Deshanna’s face that _they_ had U’Din, not the clan. She tightened her grip around the staff.

Mahanon was close by, watching them like a hawk. He looked almost as angry as he did when the Inquisition agents first visited; he had almost beheaded one in his rage. But the hunter kept his temper at bay, though just barely; the Keeper could see him gripping his sword tightly—the one U’Din made for him. He turned around when he sensed them approach.

“My Keeper. Ellana.” He greeted with a curt nod.

“Mahanon. How are things here?” The Keeper asked, stopping in front of the hunter and planting the staff on the earth. “I trust that they have been cooperative?”

“They don’t seem to want to cause harm, but I still don’t like them being here.” The hunter replied, sneering a bit. “They said that they were simply ordered to reach out to us, reassure us that U’Din is safe.

“Safe. _Ha_! I’ll bet my right arm that U’Din’s absolutely miserable in that place.” Mahanon scoffed.

The Keeper couldn’t help but agree. Safe. Their Second is being held captive by a _growing army_ , and yet they had the gall to claim that he was safe? What two-faced fools.

Mahanon shook his head and sighed; his eyes became sad, filled with _longing_. “Oh, U’Din. I _really_ should have followed him, despite his wishes. I am so sorry, Kee—“

“Mahanon, I thought I told you to end your infatuation with U’Din.” The Keeper reprimanded him slightly, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I can’t help my feelings, Keeper. I adore U’Din. I _love_ him.” Ellana snorted beside the Keeper, and Mahanon sent her a warning glare. “I’m the only one who knows how to take care of him. What he needs, how he wants to be treated—“

“Mahanon, _enough_.” The Keeper interjected, gesturing with her staff. “U’Din considers you a brother, nothing more. I tell you time and time again not to force your feelings on him, but you never listen. You’ll just end up hurting yourself; do yourself a favor and _move on_.”

Mahanon bristled, immediately becoming defensive. When he turned to his sister, the First gave him a hard look, silently telling him to _just drop it_. He took in a deep breath and just inclined his head, not protesting, but not heeding his Keeper’s words either.  

She sighed; there was no point in convincing the lad when he was in one of his moods. After giving him a look (which the hunter reluctantly acknowledged), she approached the group of Inquisition elves, and they all tensed when they saw her. The Keeper couldn’t help but stare at their clean faces. City elves. They were still elven, in a way, but not quite.

She pitied them.

“Agents.” She began, and they acknowledged her with silent, slightly fearful looks. “You are here on orders of your shem leaders. To inform us that our Second, U’Din, is walking freely among you and not held there against his will. But I say those are _lies_. We know our Second. He would never actively stay in a movement that uses violence to bring _peace_.”

“Ah, Keeper Lavellan, we do beg your pardon.” One of the agents bowed lowly, assuming an unthreatening pose. “But our Spymaster, Lady Leliana, simply told us to make contact with you. She said—“

“I _know_ what your Spymaster said. I read her letter.” She fished out folded pieces of paper and waved them in the air. “And I’m here to tell you that I do _not accept_ this. We want our Second back. He belongs with _us_.”

“But he’s the Herald of—“

“Silence!” She bellowed, making the Inquisition agents bow their heads and shake. She fished out two letters from her pocket, one for the Spymaster and one for U’Din. Deshanna rolled them around the staff’s neck and secured it with a thin rope. After she was done, she approached the elf who had spoken.

When the elf hesitantly looked up, she offered the bejeweled staff to him. The elf accepted it, and then looked up at her questioningly. “K-Keeper Lavellan?”

“Give your Spymaster the letter intended for her, and make sure our Second receives his. I would know if he does not.” The Keeper said. She backed away a few steps and said, “You approached us peacefully, so we shall reward you the same treatment. You may leave. But I ask that you wait for a while; I have many things to send to our Second.”

Without waiting for any of them to reply, she turned and left, intent to gather the things she wanted to send her Second. Poor lad must be anxious in such unfamiliar surroundings. She should send him some of his favorite crafting materials; the lad would appreciate the familiarity. Also, the serum for his hair and the salves for his persisting wounds. She frowned in worry; oh, she _hoped_ he hadn’t sustained more wounds since the Conclave—

“K- _Keeper_!” Mahanon called out to her in disbelief. When he caught up to her, he looked between the stunned Inquisition agents and the clan Keeper. “You’ll just let them go?! But they have U’Din! What was in that letter? Are you just—“

“ _Mahanon_.” She warned, making the hunter shut his mouth. “I would appreciate it if you don’t question me. This is the best way to reach out to U’Din and have him return to us; if the shems really are not holding him captive like they say, they would let him go.”

The red-haired hunter bit his lip and looked away. “But—“

“Trust me, da’len.” The Keeper said, softly this time. She placed her hand on his taller shoulder. “Our Second will return to us. You’ll see.”

Ellana’s eyebrows furrowed as she quietly listened to their conversation. Something bothered her, and she looked at the elderly woman. “Keeper, that letter you wrote for U’Din—what if the shems read it? I don’t think—“

“You must think so little of me to assume that I did not take precautions, Ellana.” Deshanna smiled mirthlessly, and the red-haired First bowed her head in silent apology. “The letter can only be read by U’Din, and he will know it is from me because I sent it along with the staff he made. The shems will not be able to decode or decipher it, I assure you.”

Ellana’s shoulders tensed. She looked up at the Keeper warily. “You mean you wrote it in Elvhen?”

“Yes. U’Din understands Elvhen. Do you not remember?” When her First did not reply, she sighed and said. “Today has been... a hectic day. We should all return to our duties. Mahanon, join the hunters tonight. Just because we are sad over the absence of our Second does not mean we should forego supper.”

The hunter bowed curtly and, after sharing a look with his sister, left the two mages. Ellana stood quietly beside the Keeper, not knowing what to do. The Keeper sensed her discomfort and sighed, pulling the First into a hug. The red-haired woman couldn’t help but be shocked.

“You are troubled, my First. I assume it’s because I’ve been hard on you the past few weeks.” The Keeper said, drawing back. She smiled sadly at her fellow mage. “I am sorry. It was not your fault that U’Din got swept into this mess. But you must know how... terrible this is. U’Din belongs here with us. He has no place in a _shem_ movement. Even if it was to seal the Breach.”

Ellana didn’t say anything at first, but she did attempt to smile at her Keeper. “T-Thank you, Keeper. That meant a lot to me. And I am terribly sorry about U’Din—“

“Hush, da’len. It is but grass under the halla’s hoof now.” Deshanna said, moving away from the First. “You have your duties, Ellana. You may return to them while I gather the things to send to our Second.”

“Y-Yes, Keeper.” She said. When the elderly woman was out of sight, she let the ugly sneer she was hiding show on her face. She recalled what transpired earlier, what she found out—

U’Din. Wimpy, _Second_ U’Din. Now Herald of Andraste. Now playing _hero_ while she was stuck _here_. She stared at her hand for a few moments, imagining something there, before clenching it into a fist. She stomped towards her own tent.

Ellana deeply regretted not going to the Conclave herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go! Clan perspective. Raises a lot of questions, I can imagine. But read on to have them answered! (Hopefully) :)) Oh, if you're tired of me updating and think I'm the scum of the earth, it's U'Din's fault. He's just... I can't stop writing this story because of him. So I'll have him apologize to you because it's his fault not mine.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read! And I appreciate the comments and kudos! YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU GUYS <3 


	11. Agitated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter for some reason :| Arghh. I followed my outline, but now I'm... gah. Whatever. :)) This chapter is still pretty important, so even after thinking about it for like, hours, I decided to put it up. I need to establish these scenes before posting the chapter where they approach the templars. Aaaand lots of info here. I'll let you all decide what to do with whatever you find out or theorize :))
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. I'll correct any mistakes later on! :)

_A man adorned in silver and black entered the room, eyes clouded with grief and regret. He saw people cleaning bodies, then wrapping the corpses in thin cloth. He recognized the faces on those bodies, knew their owners by heart. He knew what made them laugh, what made them cry, what words to say to inspire them. But now their faces, previously full of life and health, were washed out and lifeless. They were gone. Dead._

_His heart panged painfully in his chest, and he bowed his head in shame._

 

* * *

 

They ended up staying at the Storm Coast for a the rest of the week; Scout Harding had informed the party that her scouts disappeared after attempting to negotiate with a bandit group called the _Blades of Hessarian_. The dwarven scout looked _so_ worried, and the thought of Inquisition scouts being imprisoned or _worse_ just made the blond mage itch all over. He wasn’t going to leave the area after hearing that! Absolutely _not_.

And then they found the corpses of the scouts in a shack on a hill. U’Din held a hand to his chest, feeling pained and despaired and _why would people do this_? Solas had stood by him, silently offering support. Sera watched the Herald’s reaction curiously.

“Those _bastards_.” Blackwall knelt down to inspect the bodies. His mouth curled up at the state of the dead scouts. “They looked like they were tortured. Sick, sick bastards.”

“We should inform their families.” Solas suggested quietly, and U’Din nodded beside him. When he saw a crumpled paper in one of the dead scout’s hands, he knelt down and took it. “What’s this? Mercy’s Crest?”

“Wussat? Some type of password, or somethin’?” Sera asked, looking at U’Din.

The blond walked over to Solas and silently asked if he could look at the piece of paper. When the hedge mage handed it to him, he noticed that there was a description scribbled underneath. It looked rushed, like the scout thought he was running on borrowed time. He might have been. U’Din breathed deeply through his nose.

“It says that the Mercy’s Crest is an amulet that the Blades of Hessarian respect.” U’Din read out loud for everyone to hear. He sighed. “I don’t know what this is good for, but it’s something, I suppose. Perhaps we should go back to camp and plan there.”

The rest of the party agreed, and they all traveled back to camp. On the way, they encountered bears and wolves and the like. To the surprise of his three companions, U’Din’s attacks became more... precise. Deadly. He also seemed very tense, and the party became concerned for him.

“Hey, Droopy! You all right?” The archer asked after he was done collecting the skin from the bear they just killed. She scrunched up her nose in disgust; how could he do that without flinching?!

“I’m fine.” U’Din said, a bit tersely. After he put the rolled up skin in his satchel, he stood up and started walking.

Sera didn’t look convinced. “Hey, you sure? I mean, you looked really shaken up a while ago—“

“Let’s just move on.” U’Din cut her off, not looking back. He just continued walking back to camp, staff gripped tightly in his hand. In the distance, the companions saw a lone ram near U’Din. Lightning struck from the sky without the blond even doing anything. He didn’t even notice the frightened creature run away, if at all.

The party exchanged worried glances. Blackwall shrugged and ran towards the mage, calling out and telling him to wait for the warrior, for Andraste’s sake. Sera ran after them soon after, leaving Solas to contemplate a bit more before catching up, himself.

The party arrived back at camp and, true to his word, U’Din started planning what to do next. He consulted his companions and the scouts, showing them the design of the amulet and what it meant to the Blades of the Hessarian. Sera and Blackwall wanted to storm the bandits’ fort, period. U’Din was... tempted to accept.

A lot of scouts died because of him, and he wasn’t just going to _sit_ there and let the bandits get away with it. But he didn’t want to kill them all either!

“I have a suggestion, Your Worship.” Scout Harding began after inspecting the note. It was covered well, but U’Din could tell that she was also affected by the death of her scouts. The lady dwarf had a heart, he knew. “The bandits respect this crest. Perhaps requisitioning it and showing this to them can give us an advantage.”

“What advantage is that? Aren’t they just gonna, you know, kill us?” Sera asked, not understanding the logic. Why wouldn’t the bandits attack them for having a piece of _jewelry_? That was a bit strange.

“Maybe we can make them see reason, avoid more bloodshed than necessary.” Blackwall offered. “Walk into their fort with this on you, and maybe we can talk to them.”

“The Grey Warden has a point. Although, there is the issue concerning their leader.” Solas rubbed his chin as he thought about it. “He seems to have something against the Inquisition. Confronting him might end the same way no matter what option we take.”

“Let’s take the route with less killing. I’ve had enough death for today.” U’Din spoke quietly, though his tone left no room for compromise. He took the note back when Scout Harding handed it to him. “The rest of the bandits may still be saved. The leader I have no qualms taking out.”

He turned to Scout Harding and asked her to pinpoint the location of the bandits’ fort. He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t see his companions looking at him in concern. Sera nudged Solas with her elbow when U’Din walked away, out of earshot.

“Psst! Hey! Baldy!” Sera whispered near him.

The name she gave him made Solas turn to her in disbelief. “I _beg_ your pardon?”

“Whatever! You like looking at Droopy, so you must have noticed, yeah?” She said, pointing at U’Din’s back. The blond was talking to the requisition officer, showing her the design of the amulet, probably. “He was acting strange a while ago, wasn’t he? Still is. I haven’t known him that long but I _know_ droopy quiet when I see it. And now he’s... kinda _scary_ quiet. Real different than usual.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you’ve actually noticed?”

“ _Shut up_! I’m not stupid.” She glared at him. “And don’t change the subject. We’re talking about Droopy still being droopy, but in a weird, scary way. What’s up with that, huh?”

The hedge mage turned to observe the Dalish a few moments. True, U’Din still appeared the same but to those who _knew_ him to an extent... there was something off. His posture was slightly straighter, his shoulders tense. A while ago, he had been so shaken up from seeing those dead scouts in the shed. And Solas knew why.

“U’Din is... not fond of death.” Solas began slowly, thinking back on all the times that the blond mage avoided killing when he could afford to. The campaign to stop the civil war between the mages and the templars obviously affected U’Din; he had devised a plan to avoid killing them all, but it didn’t work the way he wanted it to.

“What? So he doesn’t like killing, then?” Sera asked. “That’s it? He’s in the Inquisition, though. And we kill baddies, right?”

“From what I know of the Herald, he doesn’t like violence. He seems to accept that killing is a necessary evil, but he abhors doing it unnecessarily.” Solas replied. Then, after contemplating for a few moments, he added, “You know, when we came to confront the noble you claimed was conspiring against the Inquisition, he put the guards to sleep instead of killing them.”

“Huh? You serious?” Sera’s eyes went wide at that.

“I have no reason to lie.” 

“Oh.”

The two elves just stood there, watching U’Din standing in front of the table, pointing at things every now and then. They heard him mention Deepstalkers and Serpentstone ores when he talked to a few more agents. Solas got so used to the quiet that he didn’t expect Sera to speak next.

“...He really cares, doesn’t he?” The blond archer asked, though she did not expect a reply from the elf mage. Her eyes focused on U’Din’s back, but her gaze seemed so far away. She tilted her head a bit. “About people. No matter who they are.”

Solas couldn’t help it; he smiled. “U’Din is a gentle, compassionate soul. He’s so busy thinking so little of himself that he completely overlooks his brilliance and kindhearted nature. He helps people no matter who they are, where they come from. He’s... a rarity.”

“But isn’t he one of those Dalish? Aren’t they supposed to be arrogant little tits?”

“I do not disagree with your thoughts on the arrogance of the Dalish. However,” Solas paused. “U’Din is different. Humble and kind. A little wary, but only out of concern for others.”

Sera frowned contemplatively. Before she could ask the hedge mage more questions, U’Din walked up to them. They straightened their postures when he arrived in front of them.

“Hahren, Sera, I asked Warden Blackwall if he could find some Deepstalker hide. And I sent a couple of agents to look for some Serpentstone.” He began, the note still in his hands. “I’m going to make this amulet, and after that we’ll head towards the fort Scout Harding just found. Please be ready when we’re about to set out; there’s no telling what awaits us at the bandits’ fort. Thank you.”

Without waiting for them to reply, U’Din went back to the requisition table to make a schematic for the amulet. Solas and Sera just stood there, looking at him with expressions mixed with shock and admiration. That... was still _U’Din_ , and yet he sounded so official. So decisive.

Sera muttered something about him being _scary quiet_ again. Solas just kept staring at U’Din, his head making a curious little tilt.

 

* * *

 

It took about two hours for them to finish making the amulet. The Mercy’s Crest was another proof of the blond’s skill in crafting, and the shiny amulet made Sera’s eyes sparkle with a scheming light. The blond wore it around his neck before the archer could do anything and told the party that they were setting out for the fort.

The mission went the way all of them wanted; the guards saw the bright amulet resting on the blond elf’s chest and let them inside the fort peacefully. Sera still couldn’t believe that they just let them in because of a _necklace_. U’Din wasn’t complaining though; the less hostile they were, the less chances of U’Din having to kill them.

When the Hessarian leader came out and challenged him, U’Din stoically took out his staff and began to fire. Mabaris came out to flank him, but Blackwall saw them coming and protected the blond mage. Solas also helped in keeping the hounds away from U’Din, and Sera stood at the sidelines, shooting her arrows at the bandit leader.

All three of them paused when they saw something materialize out of U’Din’s left hand as he blocked a deadly strike. It was... a _sword_. One made of pure magic.

Solas’ eyes widened at seeing it.

The blond mage winced painfully when his magic clashed with the mark, but he kept at it. He pushed the bandit and then struck at the him, taking advantage of the man’s shock. They danced, hatchet against spirit sword _and_ lightning spells. U’Din decided to end the match as quickly and painlessly as he could.

Moving behind the bandit leader, U’Din retracted his spirit sword once, and then, after putting the man to sleep, pushed the blade out of his hand to strike the man’s back. For added damage, he sent an electric shock through the man’s body. The bandit leader died in his sleep.

When the bandit leader fell to the ground, U’Din flinched. He... was dead. U’Din killed him. He took in a deep breath and nodded shakily to himself—it was... for the best.

He let the sword vanish and looked at his left hand. The mark throbbed, and the veins seemed to be thicker than before. His magic seemed to clash with it, making it hurt. He made a mental note to avoid using his left hand more than necessary.

“Wha— _Wha_ —“ Sera pointed at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish’s would. “What was _that_? You could do that? How come you never did that before?!”

“ _Dirth’ena Enasalin_. The knowledge that led to victory.” Solas enunciated, standing nearby. He sent U’Din a calculating look. “You are an arcane warrior. I never would have guessed.”

“I... don’t really like talking about it.” U’Din admitted, clenching and unclenching his left hand. The sting wasn’t as bad as when he had the sword out, but a dull ache still lingered there. The veins throbbed.

“Maker’s _balls_ , I almost let that mabari bite me when you brought out that thing!” Blackwall said, sounding very impressed. “Why didn’t you say you could do that? Surprised me, you did.”

“Using unknown skills can be detrimental to battle formations, da’len.” Solas glared at him sternly. “One shouldn’t hide their techniques from their allies. Especially if one plans to use them. As Ser Blackwall said, he almost let a mabari bite him out of surprise.”

The Grey Warden jerked back. “I wasn’t trying to complain or anything, Solas. I was just saying that he caught me off guard—“

“Exactly.” The hedge mage said, briefly looking at the Grey Warden before turning his narrowed eyes back at U’Din. “That could have caused Ser Blackwall a great deal of harm, and, in worst case scenarios, could have cost _us_ the battle. And right now, we are in no position to lose, whether it’s against bandits _or_ the Breach.”

“Baldy’s got a point.” Sera said, ignoring the brief glare from Solas.

“...True.” The Grey Warden relented and agreed with the elf’s logic. He, too, knew war. Keeping abilities secret from your enemies was one thing, but keeping them from your allies? That could cause disaster. He turned to look at the sulking blond and frowned.

Still, he never wanted the Herald to feel bad about it! Now he looked extra droopy.

“I... I’m sorry.” U’Din bit his lip. _Shit._ Him and his temper. He didn’t mean to surprise his companions; heck, he never _planned_ to reveal that skill. The Keeper told him to hide it. But... he had to block the man’s attack _somehow_! Solas had been preoccupied with the hounds, so he couldn’t have cast a barrier on U’Din. As for U’Din... well, the thought hadn’t occurred to him. But he knew using the sword was the fastest and cleanest way to kill the bandit leader, that’s why he went through with that.

But it just ended up making his companions mad at him. He sighed mournfully.

“It is unwise to keep your abilities secret, da’len.” The hedge mage said, his lecture adopting a more gentle tone. “Know that I am not saying this to embarrass you, but to help you learn. As the Herald of Andraste, you should know these things.”

U’Din looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Solas. Before anything else could happen, the rest of the bandits came up to them and actually asked if they could _join_ the Inquisition. The blond frowned at that, not very willing to trust the same bandits that killed the Inquisition scouts. When they claimed they were just following orders, U’Din turned to his companions and asked what they thought. When they advised him to just accept, he sighed and nodded tersely at the group.

Solas patted him on the shoulder, approving his actions. He forced a smile at his hahren, still bothered by the man’s lecture but not willing to snub Solas. When U’Din moved away to ask one of the bandits for more information, Solas frowned at the blond’s back.

Not many Dalish elves practiced the Arcane Warrior discipline, if they were even aware of it. The knowledge of the original form of the discipline was lost to most elves. Yet here was this Dalish elf who not only possessed it, but even wielded it like he’s been using it for years. That wasn’t what intrigued Solas, however.

The spirit swords of the current arcane warriors nowadays (who called themselves knight-enchanters, he believed) were purely yellow. However, U’Din’s was... _white_. To those who were not familiar with the discipline (or relied on what little of it was recovered), that little detail wouldn’t mean anything. But to Solas, and most _especially_ to Solas, the implications were staggering.

 _‘Curious.’_ Solas thought, eyes focused on his fellow elven mage. ‘ _Very,_ very _curious.’_

 

* * *

 

U’Din’s lamp went out _hours_ ago, but he continued to stare at the same spot in his tent. Unlike before, the Inquisition now had the resources to provide them separate tents. He honestly didn’t see the practicality of it; sharing a tent was more cost-effective. But the Inquisition soldiers insisted that he have his own.

He sighed when he remembered those soldiers. How flustered they were when talking to him, how they viewed him as someone who’s... well, someone with influence. He supposed he _did_ have some, being the so-called Herald of Andraste, but he didn’t see why that made him special. He was just like everyone else.

Wait— _no_. He wasn’t like everyone else. He was a failure. He didn’t reach the scouts in time, and they died merely hours before he found them. Their faces— _fuck_ U’Din could _still_ remember their faces!

_“Don’t blame yourself; you couldn’t have known. You did your best—“_

_Lies_! That was a huge lie!

It was his complacency, his lack of urgency that caused their deaths, _he knew_! It was his fault they were gone, that their families would become heartbroken when they hear the news of the demise of their loved ones. His chest started heaving to the point of it being painful, and U’Din clutched his head and buried his face into the bedroll to muffle his frustrated sobs.

He _hated_ death. Hated it so much it hurt him. And he couldn’t even do _anything_ —not even offer a song, like he usually did. His ocarina caused his mark to act out, hurt him. It was a pain that was just as bad as—

Wait. No, it wasn’t.

The blond elf looked at his marked hand, thinking about the time it hurt when he played his instrument. The pain—he clenched his fist. U’Din took his satchel and, after making sure that no one would see him, left the tent to go to the hill. He was unaware of someone materializing behind him, following him silently.

When he arrived at the shack, the corpses of the scouts weren’t there anymore, but U’Din could still feel... their presence. Their spirits were still lingering, having just died hours ago. And that was fine with U’Din; perfectly fine. It made it possible for him to offer something for their souls. Something to ease them into death, to tell them _it was okay_. He was here. It would have helped if he had been there _before_ they died, but—he shook his head.

 _The Living can wait. The Dead won’t._ He took out his ocarina and, consequences be damned, started to play.

His mark immediately sparked and sent painful jolts up his arm, making him stumble forward. But he didn’t stop. He was going to offer something to these souls _dammit_ , and he wasn’t going to let something like _pain_ stop him! The pain he felt was _nothing_ to what the scouts went through, he was sure!

He kept playing the song—a bittersweet song, a song that spoke of a time long lost, yet still remembered. It was a song the Keeper taught him, only him. He never heard anyone else sing it. He could have chosen a different song, one that spoke more directly about death but... this song. He _had_ to use this song.

His eyes watered, the pain becoming too much for him to keep going. But he forced himself, still. He was almost done. The mark was so bright the entire shed was lit. In his mind, the light might attract enemies or wild animals. But he didn’t care. The living can wait, but the dead won’t. _They won’t_.

_“Please stop! You’re hurting yourself!”_

And he did, but that was because the pain finally got the best of him; the blond cried out and fell to the ground on his knees. He breathed heavily, feeling the uncomfortable throbbing in his left hand. He lifted it in time to watch it change yet again—it was the first time he saw it happening, so he could only watch in silent awe as the design on his palm became more detailed (was that... a person, now?). The veins around his wrist lengthened and grew thicker, and they seemed to be bulging out of his skin now. He touched the coiling veins experimentally and hissed. _Shit_ , that hurt even more than last time!

 _‘Fuck, did I ruin it this time?’_ He thought to himself. He poured a bit of magic into the mark and winced, but it still sparked like usual. That... seemed to be a good sign, right? That was what happened before. And there was _no_ way he was going to try summoning a rift again.

He felt a comforting pat on his shoulder, and again he ignored it. Instead, he focused on his hand. The mark looked _very_ noticeable now. He groaned.

Oh, Solas was gonna get _so_ pissed. 

 

* * *

 

“Mornin’, Droopy!” The blond archer greeted him the next day, sitting next to the other companions. “I was just about to eat your share! Piss, should’ve eaten faster.”

U’Din gave her a strained smile and sat on the log. After greeting Blackwall, he noticed he had sat next to Solas. Bracing himself, he looked up at the man and nodded at him like nothing was wrong. “Hahren, good morning.”

“Good morning, U’Din.” The hedge mage greeted back and watched U’Din pour himself some soup. When he noticed the tired look on the younger elf’s face, he frowned. “You look fatigued. Are you unwell?”

The blond twitched, pausing his movements. He put the ladle back in the pot and turned slightly away from the older elf. “I-It’s nothing. I’m just tired from yesterday.”

Solas’ frowned deepened at the blond’s actions. He sighed and dropped his arms, his bowl touching his lap. “Da’len, I told you that I merely wanted to teach you. It was not my intention to shame you. Now, would you _please_ stop acting like a child?”

The blond bristled at the accusation, but he didn’t say anything. He just ate, and he was doing it a bit sloppily, like he was in a rush. Solas observed him for a few moments, wondering what was wrong with the blond. But he eventually realized that U’Din was hiding his _left_ side from him. And was that... a cloth wrapped around his left arm?

His _mark_ was on his left hand. Solas felt dread.

“U’Din, why are you covering your left arm?” He asked, trying not to jump to conclusions. Perhaps he just wanted the privacy. They _were_ around Inquisition scouts, after all. And U’Din was the type to hate too much attention.

But when the blond flinched, he _knew_ something else was up. He pursed his lips and rose, standing in front of his fellow mage. When U’Din turned away even _more_ , his suspicions were cemented.

Before the blond could react, he reached out and grabbed the cloth. He pulled it away and almost _lost_ it.

The mark changed again!

“... _U’Din_. What happened to your mark?” Solas tried to remain calm, gripping the cloth in his hand tightly. He shouldn’t react too strongly. The blond was not aware of Solas’ own connection to the mark, and overreacting would make everyone suspicious. Still, he couldn’t help but be angry and scared and _fenedhis why did it change again?!_

“I-I don’t know, it just— _shit_!” U’Din started touching his arm distractedly as he tried to explain himself to the other elf, but his fingers accidentally grazed a throbbing vein. Solas saw his reaction and knelt in front of him to inspect the mark.

“Hey, what’s happening to the thing on your hand?” Sera asked after standing behind Solas. Blackwall stood up to look at it, as well. “ _Yee_ , it looks really... ghastly and ugly-looking! _Ugh_. I hate magic. Creepy, horrible—“

“Is this a bad thing?” Blackwall asked Solas who quietly observed the new mark. “You said it looked different before I joined. And now it looks... _more_ different? Does it do that a lot?”

“It shouldn’t.” Solas replied tersely, standing up. He gave U’Din back the cloth.

“H-Hahren, I don’t—I’m sorry!” The blond clutched the cloth helplessly, afraid of the other elf’s angry expression. “It just—I woke up like this. I mean, when I woke up, it _looked_ like this. I dunno what—“

“Your use of magic yesterday must have triggered its change.” Solas said. For a moment, U’Din thought the older elf knew about him going to the shack, but then he added, “Your use of the spirit sword must have agitated the mark, worsening its already delicate condition. I had theorized that your magic had been causing the change... and now it’s confirmed.

“We _must_ return to Haven. I need to study the mark.” Solas turned to the other companions. “Have we anything else to accomplish here?”

“Why you asking us? Ask _him_.” Sera said, referring to the anxious blond still sitting on the log. “He’s the one calling the shots, yeah?”

“We—We’re pretty much done here.” U’Din responded quietly, nervously. He stood up and discarded the cloth—he didn’t need the useless thing anymore. “Let’s just—I’ll inform Scout Harding.”

The blond mage ducked away before any of them could say anything, and he approached the dwarven scout who greeted him with a smile. He tried smiling back, but he couldn’t. And that was because he _knew_ Solas was looking at him right now, thinking who knows what. He could practically feel the man’s gaze on the back of his head.

It was going to be a _long_ journey back to Haven. He cursed.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve returned.” Cassandra greeted them by the entrance of the Chantry. She turned to each of them before settling her gaze on U’Din. “I trust everything went well?”

U’Din scowled and looked down at the ground. The Seeker blinked at his reaction and turned to the others who went with him to the Storm Coast. Blackwall and Sera turned to Solas who sighed.

“We had... a confrontation with a group of bandits. They killed a scouting unit, and because of that we were forced to confront them.” He glanced briefly at U’Din before continuing. “We managed to limit the killing to just the leader, and the rest of the bandits even joined our cause afterwards.”

“Truly? Then that is good news, is it not?” She asked. Then she looked at U’Din. “Or did something _else_ happen?”

“Droopy’s mark just got weirder.” Sera replied helpfully. U’Din’s shoulders tensed. “He said that it got bigger in his sleep, whatever that means.  _Pffft_ , hahaha, _bigger in his sleep_ —”

“ _What_?” Cassandra’s eyes went wide. She walked up to U’Din and said, “Show me the mark, Herald.”

U’Din seemed to hesitate at first, but when Cassandra cleared her throat, he sighed and showed her his left arm. She gasped and held his arm, but when her gauntlet touched the veins, it caused him to hiss in pain. She let go of him in shock.

“You are in pain? _Again_?” The Seeker asked, but she didn’t wait for the blond to reply. She turned to Solas and asked, “Solas, shouldn’t this be a cause for alarm? You mentioned the mark hurting when he used it, but not when someone _touches_ it!”

“I’ll admit it has worsened. And that is why I advised him to stop pouring magic into his left hand unless he absolutely needs to.” Like closing a rift. That didn’t have to be said for her to understand. “So far it is not actively killing him, just causing pain. I will have to observe the new change in his mark, then I will report to you my findings.”

“See—See that you do.” Cassandra replied. She turned to U’Din with a softer gaze. “Are you all right, U’Din? Is your mark troubling you?”

It had _always_ troubled him. He wanted it gone. He never wanted any of this, never wanted to see so many people _die_. But instead of saying those things, he just shook his head and said, “N-Nothing I can’t handle, Lady Cassandra. I’m fine.”

“...If you’re sure.” She relented, though she still eyed him with concern. She turned to the others and told them that she and the Herald will be discussing things in the War Room. The others took that as a sign to go separate ways, but Solas lingered a bit longer to say:

“U’Din, I would appreciate it if you visit my hut after your meeting. I want to inspect the mark properly.” He said. After nodding his head at Cassandra, he turned and went on his way. U’Din sighed.

His hahren obviously suspected something, and that meant he would get another scolding from the older elf. He looked glum as he followed Cassandra to the War Room, preoccupied by miserable thoughts of a soon-to-come lecture.

He was so distracted that he was surprised by the soft _hoot_ from above him. He looked around, but continued walking towards the War Room. That... That noise. Could it be—

“Herald! Watch where you’re—“

U’Din yelped and rubbed his nose. He looked back at Cassandra’s stunned face and blushed. He opened the door and scurried inside, not really willing to answer the questions he knew she had.

He cursed at himself; that was so _embarrassing_ why did—

“You’re back, Herald U’Din! And just in time.” Josephine greeted him cordially. “Leliana and I have just convinced the house of Abernache to help us pressure the templars into sealing the Breach. We now have ten of the most influential families of Orlais backing us up.”

“The templars _must_ help us close the Breach.” Cullen said, not looking up from the map on the table as he arranged the markers. “The order was _founded_ to fight magic. They can’t ignore the Breach forever.”

“We must first convince the Lord Seeker to bring the templars out of exile.” Leliana retorted. Cullen nodded at her.

“We just received word from a templar recruit. They’re currently gathered at Therinfal Redoubt.”

“Therinfal Redoubt? That has been vacant for decades.” The Seeker frowned at the commander. “Why would they go there?”

“Only the Lord Seeker knows. Approaching him is our only way of getting answers.” Josephine said.

U’Din frowned, recalling his encounter with the Lord Seeker. The man wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with them. Why would he be willing to entertain them now? How could they change that?

“We must first present ourselves as a more attractive prospect. If we display ourselves as allies of the most influential houses in Orlais and have them accompany us to Therinfal...”

“Then we can convince the Lord Seeker to have an audience with us!”

Cullen looked between his fellow advisors. “You sure that would work? From what we know of the Lord Seeker, he’s not the type to be swayed by something so superficial.”

“Even the Lord Seeker will find it difficult to ignore so many nobles, Commander.” The Seeker said, smirking a bit. Then her expression turned serious. “And about what we know of him... I’m not sure we even know him anymore. The Lord Seeker is not the same man I knew.”

“Then let’s waste no time. Lady Josephine, when will the nobles...”

U’Din watched the shems talk amongst themselves and sighed in relief. Finally _they_ were doing the decision-making for a change. The blond was starting to get too stressed out. The death of those scouts in the Storm Coast still bothered him immensely, so he had no idea what he would do if the same thing happened again. Maybe now he could take a breather and relax—

“Then it is decided: the Herald will be the voice of Inquisition. He will go to Therinfal Redoubt to represent us.”

...or not. The blond elf groaned. Could this get any worse? Oh yeah, he still had to talk to Solas about the state of his mark. He shuddered, thinking about what could possibly occur during Solas’ “inspection.”

He made a mental note to himself to pee before going to Solas’ hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't like this chapter OTL Buuuut at least we found out more of U'Din's skills! And no, I swear I'm not overpowering him! There's a pretty good reason why I gave him that skill early on. I mean, to _me_ it's a good reason. You guys are just gonna have to trust me and wait before making any judgments, yeah? :))) When the "reason" is revealed, THEN you can judge me. Hahaha. But please don't I'm a sensitive little potato ;____;
> 
> But yeah. Solas got angry at U'Din. This is a tough love, you guys :)) 
> 
> Next chapter we FINALLY approach the templars! Took me long enough, right? OTL Sorry. I drag out events because I want to establish a lot of thingsss. And I wanted to delay the Envy Demon scene for as long as possible because HA, you guys are gonna LOVE that :))
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for taking the time to read, leave comments and give me kudos! I would really appreciate some feedback. I'm curious to know what you guys think of what you found out in this chapter OvO


	12. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA. I totally delayed this update in favor of drawing and... well, doing other stuff. :)) Haha, sorry! But now I'm here so it's all good, right? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this update! I am, once again, unsure about the pacing, but I hope this chapter entertains you regardless! <3
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. And DA:I will NEVER get old, no matter how many times you play it :)) /nineteenth playthrough already lol

“The Inquisition—allies of the noble families in Orlais?”

“That’s... true, ser.” The templar knight inclined his head as he observed the Lord Seeker. The man’s back was facing him, and he was fixated on... something on his desk. Ser Barris shifted slightly. “They also expressed the intention to visit Therinfal Redoubt. They request to speak to you about the Breach.”

“... He has that much power?” Lord Seeker Lucius sounded curious, intrigued. Excited, even. Barris had expected him to be many things... but _excited_? About the Inquisition?

“M-My Lord Seeker?” Ser Barris called out, unnerved by the slightly crazed vibe his superior was giving off. Just mentioning the Herald of Andraste... But didn’t he want absolutely nothing to do with him at first?

“I shall... meet with the Herald. And the nobles.” He finally answered, straightening his posture but still not facing the templar. But he turned his head ever-so-slightly. “Make sure that the Herald gets word that we are looking forward to meeting him.”

 _The Herald._ Not the Inquisition. Ser Barris noticed that, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he saluted, “Yes, Lord Seeker.”

“Right. Now leave me, I must... _prepare_.”

Barris nodded. When he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, he clenched his fists and sighed. He gave the Inquisition the tip in hope of the Lord Seeker seeing reason but... now, he wasn’t sure who needed help: the Inquisition or... the Lord Seeker himself.

_‘Maker, I hope I did the right thing.’_

 

* * *

 

Solas paced in his tiny hut, patiently waiting for U’Din to finish his meeting and visit him. And by patiently, he meant turning his head every ten seconds to look at the door. He sighed in frustration and sat down on his bed, clenching and unclenching his fists.

He needed to look at that mark. It shouldn’t keep _changing_ like that! Something was definitely amiss!

 _‘But what?’_ He thought to himself, narrowing his eyes at the ground. The mark only started changing when U’Din had that brief altercation with the Seeker. It was bad enough that it _did_ change once, but now there seemed to be a pattern! And U’Din’s magic definitely had something to do with it.

Solas stood up and looked at the notes on his desk. His greatest fear was that U’Din’s magic was starting to reject the mark. Trying to get rid of it in the only way it knew how: by alerting the body in the form of pain. When the blond used his magic against Cassandra that day, it was possible that U’Din’s magic became “aware” of the foreign magic in his hand and, like a good defense, tried to expel it.

The question was _why_ it felt the need to do that. It worked fine before; what _changed_?!

He was about to sit down and take more notes when he felt familiar sets of energy just in front of his door: the mark’s and... a certain someone’s. He looked at the door and expected it to open, but when moments passed and _nothing_ happened, he sighed.

“U’Din, don’t dally. I can sense you all the way here.” He began, facing the door and folding his arms behind him. “Come inside, please.”

Slowly, the gap began to grow. Eventually, Solas saw the blond strands of U’Din’s hair, and his violet eyes looked around before landing on him. When they did, what little of U’Din he saw retreated, and the door was pushed open. The younger elf hesitantly walked inside, playing with his fingers.

“I, err— _hello, hahren_.” The blond greeted quietly, nervously, looking everywhere but at him. “Th-The meeting took a little longer than expected. A-And there was this issue with some marquis. Du... Dure— _ugh_ , shem names are hard—“

“Calm yourself, U’Din.” The hedge mage interjected gently. He gestured towards the bed. “Please take a sit.”

“I— _okay_.” U’Din nodded jerkily and walked over to the bed while Solas grabbed a chair. When Solas sat in front of him, their eyes met briefly, causing the blond to bow his head. “Err—“

“Your hand, da’len.” Solas said, all business-like. He wasn’t in the mood for the younger elf’s anxiety; he wanted to inspect the mark _now_. He felt a little guilty seeing the resigned look on U’Din’s face but—well. Priorities, yes?

Solas was careful not to touch the veins which, to his horror, were longer and thicker than before. They had reached his elbow already, and the green could be seen through the thin layer of skin. If the mark transformed again, it was possible that the veins would... break the skin. That would be _extremely_ painful for U’Din, so he vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen.

He noticed the bandage that was constantly wrapped around the Herald’s left arm and frowned. When he took the first layer between his fingers, U’Din jerked.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked, holding Solas’ hand back.

The hedge mage raised a brow. “I’m looking at your mark. The veins reach up to your elbow, and this bandage is a hindrance. Does it not hurt when the bandage touches the veins?”

U’Din opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn’t come up with the words to argue with Solas’ logic. Instead, he sighed and dropped his own hand, letting Solas remove the bandage. What the ancient elf saw made him narrow his eyes.

It was... a bruise. Or an old wound that didn’t heal properly. He looked up at U’Din, silently asking. The blond laughed nervously.

“I, err. It’s some type of scar or something.” _Obviously_. U’Din seemed to have noticed his error and added, “I mean—I don’t remember where I got it, either. It was there for as long as I could remember, just like my scar here.” He tapped the scar on his neck, almost completely hidden by the leather collar he wore.

Solas blinked. But... the wound looked somewhat recent. And fresh, considering the skin around it was red and irritated. He narrowed his eyes up at U’Din. “For as long as you could remember, you say? And yet it hasn’t healed at all?”

“I... dunno.” The blond shrugged helplessly. “I think I may have some type of sickness. Wounds keep appearing on my body, then turning to black if they _actually_ heal. It’s—I really have no idea, hahren. Sorry.”

“... I see.” Solas said. His eyes roamed the blond’s body quickly, and he noticed other bandages on the blond. One on his right shoulder, just beneath a single, metal pauldron. There was another covering most of his right hand. Finally, U’Din’s sleeveless shirt had slits at the sides, exposing another set of bandages around his midriff. The hedge mage’s frown deepened in concern.

When he first tended to the elf almost two months ago, back when the Breach was still unstable, he hadn’t noticed those bandages at all. He had been wearing a mercenary uniform (he’d have to ask U’Din the story behind that one day), so his arms were covered. And if Solas had to be honest, he only paid attention to the mark. But now, seeing U’Din dressed in what he assumed was his usual attire, it made Solas wonder what kind of life U’Din lived to have those scars.

U’Din’s white spirit sword flashed in his mind, and his brows furrowed. He looked at U’Din briefly before going back to the mark, deciding to entertain his theories another time.

Gently, he turned the arm over to look at the palm. He almost cursed out loud when he saw that the design had changed—it looked almost like a person now. Still six-eyed, still somewhat resembling a wolf but...

Solas tried to remain calm. No. _No_. It wasn’t possible. The mark couldn’t be _trying_ to reveal him, could it? But the evidence was there—a six-eyed _wolf-like_ monster, and now, an anthropomorphic being with the same number of eyes, and had an uncanny resemblance to him. He desperately hoped U’Din wouldn’t notice.

“H-Hahren?” The blond’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, and his eyes rose to meet with U’Din’s. “Is—Is everything okay? Your hand shook a little back there.”

 _Shit_. He should be more careful. If U’Din were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But he had to remind himself that despite the Herald’s insecurity and unassuming personality, he was hiding a brain behind all that. He had to be _extra_ careful around the blond if he didn’t want to be found out.

But this _mark_ was making it difficult for him! Why was it betraying him like this?!

Instead of answering, Solas poured his magic onto the mark. The veins throbbed and glowed, and U’Din shifted under his hold. The design seemed to react, and the lines moved and shifted, but to Solas’ disappointment they stayed. The only difference he managed to make was that the veins became smaller, and had sunk deeper into U’Din’s skin.

“That should lessen the pain.” He finally said after a while. He lightly touched a vein and looked up at U’Din. “Did that hurt?”

“A-A little.” He admitted. “But not as much as before. It’s like... _two_ fennec bites now.”

Solas smiled slightly, remembering U’Din’s earlier comparison. “And before?”

“Before? Like the really painful one?” The blond asked, tapping his chin in thought. He closed his eyes and made a face. “Like a baby wolf bite.”

The hedge mage couldn’t keep the amused snort from coming out. He mentally reprimanded himself for it, and for all the times he let his guard down around U’Din, joked with him, _teased_ him, but... Solas couldn’t help it. There was something about the blond that just... amused him. Enthralled him. Being around the Herald made him feel light, made him feel less afraid and just _hopeful_.

That made U’Din dangerous. To Solas and his plans. But like a moth to a flame, Solas couldn’t find the strength to stay away. He cursed himself for it.

“A baby wolf bite? That is,” _Appropriate_ , Solas wanted to say. But U’Din wouldn’t be able to understand it, so, “A creative way of describing it. I’ve never been bitten by a wolf pup before, but I can imagine it hurts more than two fennecs, at least.”

The blond rolled his eyes at the joke (which Solas cursed at himself for again), and the tension in his shoulders decreased quite a bit. But U’Din seemed to remember something distressing because the tension came back. He frowned.

“Uh, hahren?” U’Din waited for Solas to look up before continuing. “I just—um, I just wanted to apologize for not... telling you. I mean, for not being upfront to you about it. I realize that I should have done so, considering this is our only hope of sealing the Breach, but I just... I got a bit scared. I know that’s not an excuse but I just wanted to say... sorry, hahren.”

Solas’ eyes softened. He didn’t remember saying anything particularly scathing to the blond, but perhaps his silence was just as bad as his lectures. U’Din seemed to fear confrontation, but it was possible that what he feared most of all was disappointment. He really wondered what kind of upbringing he had with his clan; it hurt Solas to see such a brilliant elf hindered by his own fear and insecurity.

Still, Solas believed it was important for the Herald to realize that he couldn’t keep the status of his mark a secret. Nor his abilities. Perhaps he could attempt to be less har— _no_. He wasn’t going to coddle U’Din. He should just say what needed to be said.

“U’Din,” Solas began in _that_ tone, and immediately the blond tensed. “I understand that you are afraid to anger or disappoint people, but you must understand that keeping things a secret from your allies is irresponsible. You can keep everything else private—but not the status of the mark. Not the abilities you plan to use— _unintentional_ or not.”

U’Din looked like he was about to protest before Solas quickly added that last part. Instead, he glowered at the floor. Or attempted to, in any case. To Solas, it looked more like pouting.

He sighed; he didn’t _want_ to be the villain, but if it would help the younger elf learn, so be it. Solas just wished he didn’t feel terrible every time he saw that miserable look on the blond’s face.

“I... understand. Sorry.” U’Din played with his fingers. “I just—“

“Also _that_. Stop apologizing all the time, U’Din. It’s unbecoming.”

“O-Oh. Okay. So—err, I mean.” U’Din cut himself off when Solas gave him a look. He sighed and added, “I just... don’t like the idea of troubling people, hahren. Especially you. You’ve been so kind to me and...” U’Din sighed again and went quiet, shuffling his foot against the floor.

Solas ignored the warm feeling he felt at hearing that. “Regardless, it is important for you to inform us of any impediment concerning the mark. I deeply believe that you know that. What’s stopping you is simply this irrational fear of yours.”

“I can’t—I can’t help it, okay?” The blond confided, hunching in on himself. “I just—I don’t like failing more than I already do. I know it’s stupid, but—“

“What does failing have anything to do with this?” Solas asked, honestly confused. “Isn’t the real failure not reporting the mark’s change, knowing how important it is to our cause? Isn’t the real failure keeping your abilities secret, thus causing battle formations to deteriorate?”

U’Din’s eyes widened slightly, as if he just realized the error of his own logic just by hearing Solas’. Then, he looked even _more_ miserable. Solas sighed.

“As I’ve said before, U’Din, I do not say the things I say unnecessarily. And I do not intend to embarrass or shame you. I simply wish for you to—“

“ _Learn_.” U’Din finished for him. When he looked up, he smiled tentatively. “I-I know, hahren. And I do appreciate all the time you’ve spent trying to help me see reason. That you would bother to help out a failure like—“

“ _U’Din_.”

“...Sorry. Oh, I mean— _ugh_.” The blond scratched his head in frustration, sighing. He fell back on the bed and huffed. “I need a lot of work, don’t I?”

“Not as much as you think.” Solas said, standing up and taking the chair with him. He went over to his desk and began writing down the things he discovered about the mark. He made a copy for Cassandra and one for... himself. The latter had information he wasn’t willing to share with the others. “All you need to do is be more confident in yourself, U’Din. I meant what I said before: you are a _brilliant_ elf. Please realize that.”

“...Easier said than done, hahren.” The blond moped, turning on his side to face the wall. “But... do you really think so?” He asked quietly.

Solas smiled down at his notes, nodding even though U’Din couldn’t see him. “I don’t say anything unnecessarily, remember? I don’t have a reason to lie to you, U’Din.”

“... _Serannasan Ma, hahren._ ” U’Din thanked him. He sounded... relaxed. Sleepy. Solas heard the bed groan. “It means a lot to me that you think so.”

“ _Sathem lasa halani_ , U’Din. And I don’t think so,” Solas replied without thinking, still focused on his notes. “I _know_ so.”

“...Hahren? About the mark. It was—”

“Hm? Yes, U’Din?”

“...Never mind.”

They stayed like that for a while. Probably an hour or two, Solas wasn’t sure. He was content with the silence; in fact, he wasn’t even bothered by U’Din’s presence at all, which was a strange thing in itself. He just kept writing and writing, only pausing to light his lamp because it became dark already. Just when the flame flickered to life, he realized something.

U’Din used _Serannasan Ma_. A very formal way of saying thank you. That was... not something the Dalish used. He turned to question the blond, just to verify what he had heard, but U’Din was already fast asleep. On... _his_ bed. Quite comfortably, too.

Solas stood up and quickly went over to the Herald, observing the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments before reaching out to shake his shoulder. “U’Din? U’Din, wake up. If you wish to sleep you should—“

The blond turned and made a little sound that... affected Solas more than he was willing to admit. U’Din nuzzled into the sheets, a small smile playing on his lips. Solas’ mouth felt dry. He pursed his lips.

P-Perhaps he could let U’Din stay. For a moment. Solas had always been a private person, wanting his own space, but U’Din... he didn’t see why he couldn’t let the Herald rest for an hour or two. The blond must have had a rough, tiring day; Solas should let him rest. Yes. Rest. On his bed.

The hedge mage swiftly walked back to his desk, keen on focusing on his research. And not on the blond currently sprawled on his bed. And certainly not on how his own cheeks were—he cleared his throat.

Where was he? Ah, yes, research, research...

 

* * *

 

For the next few days, the Inquisition was busy preparing for U’Din’s visit to Therinfal Redoubt. Josephine sent letters. Leliana sent forward scouts. Cullen... sent his recruits crying because _that’s not how you hold a shield!_ His companions had been training or studying, honing their skills and even creating new ones, as well. He even saw _Sera_ experimenting in Adan’s apothecary the other day; he wasn’t sure it was anything good, judging by the pleased, scheming look on the archer’s face.

As for U’Din? Slaving away at the forge, as usual. Creating the best equipment for his companions. Or, well, trying to. He ran out of materials to use, much to his dismay, so he just spent the first day adjusting schematics. In his father’s journals, he found a particularly fashionable schematic that he thought Vivienne would like. He’d have to ask Josephine for a book on Orlesian art or fashion; he had a feeling the mage wouldn’t appreciate Dalish design, no matter how sturdy or practical it was.

He was about to spend another day at the forge when Cassandra approached and informed him that Cullen and Leliana had collected tons of materials for him to use. When he went with her to the forge and, indeed, saw that the shems _did_ procure him materials (sacks and crates full of ‘em!), he protested vehemently.

“L-Lady Cassandra! These must have cost quite a lot!” He had told her, though his eyes had adopted an excited gleam. U’Din kept looking at the crates. “I-I don’t think I can accept this. The Inquisition should—“

“Give you the materials you need to outfit us better.” Cassandra finished for him. “You have such immense skill, Herald. It would be a waste to let you use them creating armor and weapons using cheap materials. The Inquisition is not faring as badly as you think, I can assure you.”

The blond bit his lip. “But I don’t—“

“The crates with the metals are over there.” She said, pointing somewhere behind him. “Just in case you wanted to know.”

U’Din blinked and, slowly, followed the Seeker’s finger. True enough, there were crates labeled ‘iron’, ‘onyx’, ‘drakestone’ and even ‘blue vitriol’, a kind of metal U’Din has never used but was very curious to try (it was mentioned in his father’s journal). Just beyond that were crates full of serpentstone, summerstone as well as some—

Wait. Was that... _obsidian_?!

Like a curious, excited child, he went over to the crate and opened it. His eyes gleamed when he saw _piles_ of obsidian, just waiting to be used and molded into beautiful pieces of armor! He made an excited little noise and picked up as much obsidian ores as he could, running to the forge and passing by the Seeker and blacksmith (“Whas’all this about?!”) without much of a thought. He began to work.

All the while, Cassandra watched him, a little smile on her face.

With his new materials, U’Din was able to create even better armor and weapons for his companions. He could even make modifications and attachments now, which was something he couldn’t do before. The possibilities were endless! He looked at this handiwork and, as a rare sign of self-appreciation, congratulated himself for his hard work. If there _was_ anything he’s proud of, it’s that he can keep his companions safe and well-equipped with these.

He beamed; he couldn’t wait to show his companions!

Blackwall usually hung out near the forge, so he was the obvious first companion to approach. The Grey Warden greeted him with a stoic nod, but the man’s eyes widened at the new armor U’Din presented him.

“New armor _again_?” The warrior asked, surprised. He gratefully took the new equipment, but he looked at the elf in confusion. “But you just gave me _this_ one around a week ago! This is still perfectly fine with me.”

The blond shook his head. “The materials I used for your current armor aren’t pure. I had to mix a couple of metals together because I ran out of obsidian to make a pure one. It was a pretty good experiment, though. I realize that the properties of one metal can mix with another’s to form a _new_ property—“

“Um. Herald?”

“Huh? O-Oh, sorry! I got—err.” U’Din flushed, scratching his head in embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “Um, anyway, that one is _much_ better, Warden Blackwall! I promise!”

“But it’s—“ The Warden looked at the armor, and then at the sword and shield U’Din was still carrying. The bearded man sighed and placed the armor down so he could take the weapons from the blond. When he took them, he looked at the weapons first before back at the Herald. He looked... confused. Sad, even.

“This is... too much. But I thank you for your kindness.” Blackwall said, putting the shield and weapon down. Then, he went back to his stoic self and nodded. “I’ll try them out later. See if they really _are_ better than what you gave me last time. Though my last equipment was pretty good already. Dunno how you’ll top that.”

“Better enhancements, sturdier armor.” U’Din provided helpfully, smiling. “Also, enemies’ attacks will be deflected and knocked back at them. I can imagine they’ll think twice after seeing themselves bleed from attacking you.”

“Maker, just how _good_ are you at this?” Blackwall asked rhetorically, laughing afterwards. He nodded and, to U’Din’s surprise, patted him on the back. “You’re a good kid. Just thought you should know that.”

U’Din huffed. He wasn’t a _kid_. But he accepted it anyway, waving at the Grey Warden before running off with his cart. The Grey Warden looked sad again when he left, but Blackwall shook his head and turned to his new equipment, intent on trying them out.

U’Din was already pulling his little wagon back inside the settlement when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“Hey! Was wondering when I’d see you, boss.”

The blond faltered and looked to his right. He gasped. It was—

The Qunari spy! Iron Bull!

“Whoa, whoa, _easy_ there, boss.” The Qunari said when he stepped back and almost tripped over the wagon. Iron Bull chuckled. “Heh, that dwarf Varric wasn’t kidding. You _are_ jumpy.”

“I—“ U’Din paused to fix his hair and straighten his posture. He looked around briefly before lifting his eyes to meet the Qunari’s. “Err. _Hello_? I, um, see that the shems allowed you to join. Sorry about that, by the way. I just wanted to be—“

“It’s no problem, boss. It was a good call on your end. Just goes to show you understood the seriousness of the situation.” Iron Bull said, inclining his head slightly. He sighed and rotated his shoulder. “But _man_ , did I go through a lot of screening! Your Spymaster and Commander don’t joke around, do they? But it’s all good. Inquisition is doing pretty well. And I’m not just saying that because I have a thing for redheads.”

“Um... okay?” U’Din said, tilting his head a bit. He cleared his throat. “So I suppose you’ll be coming along with us then, Mr. Iron Bull?”

For a moment, the Qunari just looked at him blankly. And then, much to U’Din’s annoyance, burst out laughing. He bent over to slap his knees, gasping and wheezing.

“Ha! _Mr. Iron Bull_! The dwarf wasn’t joking about _that_ either!” Iron Bull shook his head. “Oh, _sorry_ , boss. I couldn’t—oh, this is rich. _Sorry_.”

U’Din sighed and shook his head. “That’s okay. You were just—“ His eyes wandered to his cart, and he saw the pieces of armor and weapons in them. He then turned to Iron Bull who looked like he wasn’t wearing any armor at all. Just a single leather pauldron strapped across his chest. And pants.

He frowned. “Is that your armor, Mr. Iron Bull? It doesn’t look like much.”

“Hm? Oh, this?” Iron Bull looked down on his form. “Pretty much, yeah. Don’t really need much, to be honest; I get more dangerous the more I’m wounded, so it’s all good.”

U’Din’s frown deepened, and he rubbed his chin as he thought. The blond snapped his fingers and started measuring the Qunari with his eyes, moving around the Qunari to get a view of the man’s different angles.

“...Boss?” The Qunari asked, honestly perplexed.

Once the Dalish elf made a complete walk around the Qunari, he noted the measurements in his head and went back to his wagon. He picked up the handle and started walking back to the forge. But before he got too far away, he turned and called out to the horned man.

“Please wait a moment, Mr. Iron Bull! I’ll be ready with your new equipment soon!” He said. And then he went back to thinking. It didn’t make sense for the Iron Bull to keep himself _too_ exposed like that. He needed a bit of protection! U’Din could probably apply the same enchantment he did for Varric’s open shirt; maybe ranged defense? Or melee, since he remembered the Qunari using a two-handed weapon that time—oh! He had schematics for battleaxes, too!

The Qunari just blinked as he watched the blond elf retreat back to the forge. After a moment of silent contemplation, he shook his head with a smile. Yeah. Varric told him about _that_ , too.

 

* * *

 

The long-awaited day finally arrived, and U’Din was tempted to stay in the forge forever. Or look for a boulder to hide in because trees don’t work on Cassandra (or Solas) anymore.

 _“That’s a shame. You like trees.”_ The strange voice said. He agreed with it and sighed.

His hand shook as he adjusted a new leather gauntlet he made for his left arm. For the hundredth time, probably. But he had to make sure the slits wouldn’t touch his veins no matter how much they moved. Which ended up being impossible because the veins _coiled_ around his arm. He ended up making it similar to Leliana’s—not as exaggerated, maybe, but he made the mouth wide enough to not aggravate the mark. The one he was working on was probably the seventh one he made already. Harrit noticed that and called him obsessed.

He sighed shakily; he couldn’t help it. He needed something to do, something to clear his mind and distract him from—

“ _Herald_!” He dropped his little hammer when he heard Cassandra’s cry. He turned his head over his shoulder, but he did it so slowly that Cassandra was already behind him by the time he got a good look. He yelped when she held the back of his shirt. “What time do you think it is?

“S-Sorry, Lady Cassandra! I was just—“ He shook the gauntlet in his hand quite ineffectually. The Seeker just looked at it once before rolling her eyes.

“Fine. But we need to meet at the Chantry _now_. You have to decide which of us you’re going to take to Therinfal.” She said. Without giving him any chance to ask questions, she turned around and started walking away.

U’Din blanched. Oh no. Not _more_ decisions!

 

* * *

 

“Hey, boss, didn’t have the chance to thank you when you gave me all this.” Iron Bull gestured towards his new armor, then pointed at the _badass_ battleaxe he had strapped on his back. “This stuff is pretty awesome. Can’t wait to do some _damage_.”

U’Din winced, but he tried smiling at the Iron Bull. “N-No problem, Mr. Iron Bull. But, um, could you please try to _lessen_ the damage? At least make sure it’s not fatal?”

“Hm, can’t make any promises, boss. My skills aren’t exactly... subtle. And I tend not to hold back.”

The blond sighed at that. He made a mental note to himself to just make sure that the Iron Bull didn’t have to go all out on their foes. Then Sera pulled him into a neck hold, causing him to choke a bit.

“ _Hey_ , lighten up, Droopy! Baddies are baddies for a reason. We’d do more harm keeping them alive than just putting them out of their misery, eh?” The archer grinned and then freed one arm to admire her gloves. “And how am I supposed to test all these _wonderful_ things you gave me if I can’t kill a baddie?”

“Strangely enough, Sera is correct.” Solas said, giving Sera a disapproving glance. “While there are some cases where it is more advantageous to leave an enemy alive, like for interrogation, letting enemies live might cause us inconvenience. What if they come back for revenge? What if they get a chance to do something _more_ nefarious? These are things you must consider before making a decision.”

“Solas has a point.” The Qunari said, nodding.

“Yeah, and if you’d like a _better_ explanation than Solas’,” Sera began, letting go of U’Din so that the blond mage can breathe. But she later smacked him in the back, causing him to stumble forward. “Kill all the baddies ‘cause you dunno when they’ll come back to bite you in the arse! And get their breeches too, just for fun. Pfffft, hahaha!”

Iron Bull laughed with her. Solas sighed. And U’Din adjusted his collar, a little miffed that Sera opened it a bit. Then, he cursed when he realized that the string broke.

Solas noticed his fumbling. “Is there something wrong with your collar, U’Din?”

“Err, nothing. The string just broke.” The blond explained, not looking at where he was going. Sera shouted something about a tree. Then, he felt a large hand guide him to the side, but he was so busy with his collar that he didn’t mind being manhandled. “I can probably fix it with something we find on the way. It’s no big deal.”

“Oops, did I do that? Sorry.” Sera walked up to him and looked at his collar. Then, something on his neck got her attention and she leaned in _real_ close, causing the Dalish elf to _finally_ look up. “ _Shite_ , where’d _that_ come from?! That looks pretty deep!”

Self-consciously, U’Din covered the scar on his neck. “I, umm—an accident?” He answered, hoping that would be enough to satisfy the crazy elf.

Sera didn’t seem to buy it. “Nuh-uh, that don’t look like it was from an accident. I know accidents. That looks like a cut from a blade to me!”

“An accident from... magic?” U’Din tried, knowing how uncomfortable Sera was with the topic. When she recoiled, he thought himself victorious. But he groaned when she bounced back, unperturbed.

“Nice try, _Droopy_ , but that isn’t gonna work!”

“Perhaps you two can finish this discussion later.” Solas interrupted. With his staff, he pointed at a stronghold a few miles away. “There. That must be Therinfal Redoubt.”

“All _right_!” Iron Bull cheered, cracking his knuckles and craning his neck. “Here’s to hoping I get to smash something. Just the one, mind you.”

“I imagine there would be more things to _smash_. Let’s all keep our guard up, shall we?” Solas said, sharing a look with U’Din. Both elves nodded at each other and continued their journey to Therinfal. U’Din had a feeling that Solas’ suspicions were right.

The blond archer turned to him and narrowed her eyes. She made a gesture with her two fingers. “We’re not done with this, Droopy. I’m watching you, you hear?”

U’Din sighed. He should have expected Sera to be a little nosy. Mahanon was like that too. Especially when... _ugh_.

They reached the stronghold, and U’Din took a moment to observe the facade before crossing the bridge with the others. He tilted his head, looking for possible escape routes. Just in case. They could always jump _over_ the walls if push came to shove. Solas and he had barrier spells. And he could imagine Sera would enjoy the thrill.

Walking across the bridge, he couldn’t help but notice a strange man in a weird hat. He felt... familiar. He watched the man’s movements, and then got startled when he vanished behind a noble. He looked around, wondering where the strange man went.

Solas noticed the man, too.

At the end of the bridge, a nobleman by the name of Lord Abernache greeted him jovially by his title. Ah, _this_ was the man Josephine told him about. The one with the offers he should _not_ consider, but with gossips he should take note. He indulged the man as best as he could without agreeing to anything unnecessarily. He heard Sera muttering behind him, something about noble tits. He desperately hoped the nobleman didn’t hear that and instead focus on them talking about the Lord Seeker.

“Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you’d divulge what finally got their attention? The Lord Seeker and the templars, of course.” The haughty lord asked as they walked up a hill. “Rumor will, if you won’t.”

Meaning, the lord will probably come up with something to spread around. This man knew rumors; it was likely he _also_ created and diffused them. U’Din just smiled politely. “What do you mean, my lord?”

Abernache seemed satisfied with the way he referred to him, judging by the way he chuckled throatily before speaking, “The Lord Seeker won’t meet us until he greets the Inquisition. _In person_.” He replied. The nobleman stopped just when they reached the top, causing U’Din to halt his movements as well. “Quite a surprise, considering that spat in Val Royeaux.”

U’Din blinked. Why was that a surprise? Wasn’t it common sense for the Lord Seeker to meet with him first before anything else? That was the impression he got from the all the meetings he had with the shems. He told the lord this, and the man said something about a duchy. Not knowing what a _duchy_ even was, the blond discreetly tuned him out after that.

They arrived at Therinfal Redoubt, and U’Din once again looked at the facade, trying to figure out any possible escape routes. He obviously wouldn’t really know until he got inside, but early planning wouldn’t do him any harm.

“Defensible. I _like_ it.” Iron Bull hummed approvingly, looking the stronghold up and down. “Looks like someone worked out some issues building this place, if it’s standing as long as it is.”

“It _was_ occupied by the templars decades ago.” The lord said, having heard the Iron Bull’s comment. His head lifted the tiniest bit. “Oh? It appears the templars have sent someone to greet you, Herald.”

“Who is it, my lord?” U’Din asked, squinting and standing on his tiptoes to see over the crowd of people. _Damn_ his height!

“Well, we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” The nobleman inclined his head towards him, then started walking. “I do request that you present well. Everyone is too... _tense_ for my liking.”

True enough, everyone _did_ seem to be on edge. Even the nobles, chatty and vague as they were, appeared to be stiff in the shoulders. Noblemen looked around; noblewomen subtly held on to their skirts. _Tense_ was too weak to describe the atmosphere at Therinfal. U’Din would consider himself an expert at such things.

“The Inquisition’s reach is increasing. _Impressive_.” Solas commented beside him, eyeing the nobles around them. “It is no small feat to accomplish this. Our Spymaster and Ambassador have handled things well.”

“Eck. _Noble tits_.” Sera muttered unhappily under her breath, squinting and glaring at everyone who looked like they wore an expensive shirt or mask.

While _they_ focused on the nobles, U’Din thought about the Lord Seeker. He frowned; the first time they met the man, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Inquisition. And now they were meeting them? Just because of a couple of noblemen? Cassandra explained that he wouldn’t dare dismiss so many influential people, but U’Din wasn’t sure. He understood the basic concept of politics, yet he couldn’t help but be... anxious.

Something really bad was going to happen. He could _feel_ it.

When they passed through the gate, U’Din noticed that Lord Abernache was being introduced to a templar who looked _very_ familiar. It only dawned on him who the templar was when he passed by the lord and approached _him_.

“Inquisition? _Herald_?” The dark-skinned man asked. “I’m Delrin Barris. I’m the one who sent Cullen the tip. He explained that you are working to close the Breach?”

U’Din nodded, though deep inside he was fretting about making a mistake. _Why_ did the shems make him do this again? “Good day, Ser Barris. I’m U’Din. The... _Herald of Andraste_.” He introduced himself, trying very hard not to make a face. “And as for the Breach, that is the plan, yes.”

“Well met, Herald.” The templar replied. Then he shifted his eyes slightly to the side. “Your presence was expected, however I didn’t think you’d bring such... lofty company.”

Lord Abernache scoffed behind him, muttering something about the templar’s family not worth much. Ser Barris seemed like he wanted to say something, but calmly held back. U’Din admired his self control.

“In any case, this promise of status has garnered interest from the Lord Seeker. Strangely enough.” The templar said, frowning. “The sky burns with magic, yet he seems to be more interested in politics and fame than sealing the Breach. He’s ignored all calls till now.”

U’Din frowned as well. “Is the Lord Seeker not aware of the danger the Breach imposes on the world? That seems rather odd.”

“More like _stupid_.” Sera butted in behind him. She muttered something else under breath, and U’Din wondered what it was since it warranted a quiet warning from Solas.

“Well, the commanders say he’s _considering the situation_. Whatever is precluding his immediate answer is beyond me.

“But I confess, Herald, I find the Lord Seeker’s actions incomprehensible.” The templar sighed, walking just a bit closer to him so they could talk more privately. “He promised to restore the order, yet he marched us all the way here to do what? Wait? While a huge rift hangs above us? Templars should know their duty, even when they’re held from it.”

“‘Bout _time_ one of you gobs said that.” Sera butted in again. This time, U’Din turned his head to give her a stern look.

“Sera, _please_.” He implored. When the archer just shrugged, he sighed and turned back to Ser Barris. “What do you propose then, Ser Barris? You seem to be aware of the situation already. What’s stopping you from helping us seal the Breach, if I may ask?”

“We... _can’t_ abandon our orders, Herald. As much as we—“

“ _Barris_! Don’t keep your betters waiting with your drivel.” Lord Abernache called from behind the templar, crossing his arms and probably looking _very_ annoyed. “There’s more important work for those born to it, and you’re keeping both the Herald and I from it!”

The templar knight sighed. He nodded at the blond elf. “Follow me, Herald.”

Ser Barris led them to an open area, and U’Din looked around as he followed the knight. He saw strange mechanisms on the ground, and they seemed to be hooked to the flags on the walls. All three flags had insignias on them, and U’Din only recognized the Chantry and Templar insignias. What was the third?

Oh, the Ferelden insignia. _Right_.

Barris explained that the Lord Seeker wanted him to do a flag-raising ritual before meeting him. U’Din would simply have to raise the flags in order according to what he personally valued. If given the choice, he’d choose the flag of the people _period_. He was honestly indifferent about the others (though he probably valued the templars more than the shem Maker).

Lord Abernache seemed to think the ritual a waste of their time. _His_ time. U’Din didn’t mind if he really _had_ to, but he just didn’t see himself as someone important enough to perform such a sacred (he assumed) task. Besides, he didn’t control the Inquisition.

Ser Barris shook his head at his words and said, “That doesn’t seem to matter. The Lord Seeker wanted _you_ to perform the ritual. You, solely, not as the representative of the Inquisition.”

“ _Why_?” U’Din asked, honestly befuddled. And a little wary. “He didn’t want to have anything to _do_ with me before. What changed?”

“I don’t know. He’s been... fixated on you since you allied with the nobles and came here.” Barris admitted, looking just as confused as he was.

Lord Abernache huffed. “The Lord Seeker wants us to shuffle _flags_ around? Refuse, Herald! This is a waste of our time.”

U’Din looked at the nobleman, then back at the templar knight. Both were looking at him expectantly, and that caused his anxiety to spike up. He turned to his companions, hoping they would give him some sort of suggestion, but the look on Solas face told him that he should decide on his own.

 _Fuck_. What should he do?

“ _Horseshit_ , as my servants would say!” The nobleman scoffed loudly before he could make a decision. “Making the _Herald of Andraste_ and, by extension, _me_ , do this busywork? Ludicrous! Take us to the Lord Seeker _now_.”

U’Din gulped. Lord Abernache was complaining very loudly, allowing the other nobles to hear and whisper among themselves. The blond had _no_ idea what they were whispering about, but if they were talking ill of him, thus judging the Inquisition—

He sighed and gave Barris an apologetic look. “We... should probably meet the Lord Seeker now. If he insists that I do the ritual, I can perform it later. But right now...” He discreetly shifted his eyes to the side, right where the irate nobleman was.

Barris sighed and nodded. “Very well. I’ll let the Lord Seeker handle this. Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

They waited in that room for half an hour, causing several of the nobles and templars present to become irate. The tension was there, and even sparked a debate between Lord Abernache and Ser Barris. U’Din just stood between them, giving answers when prompted (or just simply making sure they didn’t end up killing each other). Barris had started talking about how important faith was to knights when the doors opened.

Immediately, U’Din’s shoulders tensed. Something... was very _off_ about the man Barris claimed to be the knight-captain. Abernache noticed as well and retreated at the very back, watching the scene quietly unfold as U’Din tried talking to Ser Denam. He didn’t expect cryptic answers from the templar. And he _certainly_ didn’t expect the templars that came with him to start killing the rest of the templars.

 _Shit_! He cast the most powerful barrier he could around the other nobles and defended as much templars as he could. The knight-captain started raving like a lunatic, and his words sent chills up U’Din’s spine.

“The _Elder One_ is coming!” He laughed maniacally. “ _No one_ will leave Therinfal unstained by _red_!”

U’Din summoned a chain of lightning and paralyzed the ill-looking templars. Iron Bull took advantage of their disabled state by smashing into them like a whirlwind. An arrow hit his back, but instead of recoiling he just grinned.

“Oh, you thought _that_ hurt? I’ll show you _hurt_!” He taunted and charged into the templar-archer that shot him, knocking him down and mauling the templar to death with his axe.

U’Din tried not to look as he focused on supporting his companions and protecting the nobles present.

“What _are_ these things?!” Sera shouted as she shot arrow after arrow. “They’re tougher than normal people! Some freaky shit is happening!”

“It would be best to concentrate on _defeating_ them than figuring them out!” Solas grunted as he froze a templar solid.

“You—I— _shut it_!” Sera yelled. Then she let out a little growl and coated her arrows in _fire_. “Take a look at this, _Baldy_! Fire for the win!!”

Pretty soon, they were able to defeat the ill templars. But they kept the knight-captain alive, as requested by U’Din. He didn’t see the point in killing the man unnecessarily when he had so much information. He bound the knight-captain in a static cage, asking the surviving templars to watch over him and the nobles.

Ser Barris led them out of the room, and U’Din couldn’t help a notice a few rooms to the right. He asked Barris, Solas and Iron Bull to scout ahead while he and Sera looked at the rooms. He had a feeling that something important was in there.

“Hey, not that I mind stealing stuff or anything but,” Sera began as she picked the lock on a door. “Are you _sure_ we’re supposed to be looting when there’s freaky templars running around killing people? I mean, you’re _against_ killing, right?”

U’Din couldn’t help but wince. Sera made pretty good points. Still, they had to find out more about what’s happening, and since the rooms were nearby, he thought they might as well.

Sera shrugged and kicked open the door.

They found gold, much to Sera’s delight. But not much else. The pair of elves went to the open room next, and U’Din went over to the desk while the archer continued to loot. The blond mage looked at the papers on the desk and frowned at what he read.

 _Sealed orders_? And they were about... U’Din gasped. Oh, _shit_. What was going on?!

“Hey, Droopy, watchugot there?” Sera asked, stuffing her pockets with gold.

“These—We have to show Ser Barris this.” U’Din put the papers in his satchel and started running out of the room, Sera in tow. “They’ve been planning something for _months_ , and I have a bad feeling those strange templars had something in store for Ser Barris and the others!”

“Let me guess: it probably has something to do with _magic_!” The archer griped. She growled. “Piss balls, I _hate_ magic!”

 

* * *

 

Written orders weren’t the only things U’Din found. The deeper he and the rest of his companions ventured into Therinfal, the more they found out. And they found a corpse. And not just _anyone’s_ corpse—

“Th-That’s the knight-vigilant!” Ser Barris exclaimed as they went inside the office. The room stank with decaying flesh and blood. “But the Lord Seeker told us he died at the Conclave!”

“It appears your Lord Seeker has lied to you.” Solas said, kneeling down to inspect the body. U’Din’s fingers twitched.

“Knight-Vigilant Trentwatch,” Ser Barris read a bloodstained letter on the desk. “It is good that you escaped the Conclave alive. Come to Therinfal Redoubt; Knight-Captain Denam will meet you.

“Maker... did the Knight-Captain _kill_ Ser Trentwatch? Then hid the body for the Lord Seeker?” The templar knight looked sick, pained. He crumpled the letter in his hands. “What’s _happening_ to the order?”

Ser Barris pointed at a chest and told them to make use of the equipment left by the knight-captain, however U’Din politely refused and said that they should get moving. The templar then lamented over the death of the knight-vigilant as they walked up the steps. He despaired, for what if the war was caused by the Lord Seeker and Ser Denam? What did that mean for the order?

The blond clenched his fist as he remembered the poor man’s corpse. So many people killed ruthlessly, and for what? Power? Glory? It made U’Din’s blood boil, and he was starting to see red around the edges. People who killed for their own personal gain—

It was deplorable. _Disgusting_. He gripped his staff tightly in his hand, and the veins on his left arm throbbed.

Solas noticed this, and he was about to call out to the blond but he was too late. Upon seeing the Lord Seeker at the top of the stairs, U’Din rushed to the top, chest heaving and eyes heated.

The Lord Seeker turned and grabbed him, pulling U’Din towards him with a maniacal smile on his face. He laughed.

“At _last_!”

_“NO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”_

U’Din’s vision flashed white and then— _nothing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there's the cliffhanger. I decided to split this into two because putting everything in one chapter would rush things. And I wanted to create some hype for the Envy Demon encounter. Even though it probably sucks. OTL Ugh. Oh well. Hope this was good, though? Huhu.
> 
> A little Solas POV up there! I thought it would be nice to give him a few POVs every now and then, considering he's kinda an important character in this fic. Just kinda. Not like he's part of the main pairing or anything lol /gets shot/ Though I do hope I didn't mess up his character OTL 
> 
> As always, thank you all for taking the time to read and leave me comments and kudos!! ;_____; I'm always humbled by seeing the kudo counter rise and the comment section filled with feedback! I'M REALLY UNWORTHY, BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH <3
> 
> Elvhen:  
> I took these from FenxShiral's [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061). I just discovered it a few days ago and went like whaaat :)) Amazing work! I'm still going to try to interpret the language myself, but I'll refer to his guide to make things easier (and cooler because wow, the guy knows his stuff).
> 
>  _Serannasan Ma_ : A very formal way of saying thank you. Lit. "I thank you."  
>  _Sathem lasa halani._ : "Pleased to give assistance/Pleased to help."


	13. Getting to Know You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter! Aaaaand you're all probably gonna hate me a bit for it OTL You'll see why at the end. Lol. 
> 
> Note: Note beta'd. Any mistakes will be corrected later on.

_A man clad in black and silver looked up at the spire. Smoke was coming out of the top. Tongues of flame licked the sides. Just from his position, he could hear cries of the Fade dwellers that occupied the spire; demons gurgling, growling._

_One of the scouts he sent ahead came back, saying that the spire was infested with rogue demons carrying an enemy banner. He raised an eyebrow when he heard which faction encroached on their territory, but his men faltered, afraid._

_He smiled at his men and reassured them that he would make sure that nothing horrible would befall on them, that he would sooner die than let any of_  them _die._ _His men stood up straighter at that, nodding, expressing their utmost trust in him. He smiled again before facing the spire plagued by rogue demons. He narrowed his eyes._

_He was not afraid of demons._

 

* * *

 

When U’Din came to, he found himself waking up in a strange, unfamiliar place. The place was dark, dim, only lit by glowing, green rocks and torches on columns covered in dead vines. He looked up, and the ceiling was broken, but the “sky” was dark, just like where he was.

 _‘Where am I?’_ He asked himself, shaking his head. He got up slowly and looked around, noticing Elvhen-looking fixtures on the walls. He saw something similar in those ruins he found in the Hinterlands a while back.

Was he in some ruins, then? But why? Hadn’t he—he froze. The Lord Seeker! His companions! He—

When he turned, he noticed something... or some _one_ in the distance. Slowly, he walked towards the strange thing, making sure to perform a barrier in case anything jumps out at him from the shadows. All the while, he kept looking around, seeing broken sculptures of owls perched on the columns. His hand went up his chest as he looked at them.

The strange things he saw turned out to be people, though they were still shrouded in mist. But he could make out the shapes, the colors and they looked... familiar. He gasped when their faces became clear.

It was... Cullen and Josephine? Why were they here? Shouldn’t they be at Haven? He was about to ask when Leliana appeared from the shrubbery behind them, walking towards U’Din with a slightly crazed smile on her face.

U’Din frowned. He never, _ever_ saw Leliana do that. And he doubted she was the kind of person who did. Something was wrong.

“Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?” She asked quietly, voice mangled, echoing. “Leliana” started walking behind “Cullen”, and U’Din did nothing but watch her movements closely. “Everything tells me about you, you know. What you hear, what you see—they tell me _everything_.”

“...What are you talking about?” U’Din asked, sizing the woman who looked like the Spymaster. Something about her... was off. She sounded so _wrong_ , and he felt his instincts telling him to get rid of her _fast_.

“Hm, hm, are you a curious one? Yes, yes, I’m learning.” She chuckled sinisterly, drawing a dagger from her pocket. U’Din’s eyes widened when she put the dagger to the blond shem’s neck. “What about this, then? What do you feel about _this_?”

His first instinct was to tell her to let him go, but the more he studied “Leliana”, the more he realized that this person wasn’t her. In fact, it probably wasn’t even a _person_. The voice was a dead giveaway, as well as the inconsistencies in Leliana’s personality. He raised an eyebrow at the woman, sizing her up.

“What do you want, _demon_?” He asked in a no-nonsense tone. “Are you trying to tempt me into giving you control over my body? If that’s the case then I’m sorry; it’s not going to work.”

“Leliana” went quiet, observing him. Then, slowly, she slit “Cullen’s” throat and let him fall slowly to the ground, bleeding. She smiled at him again and started backing away.

 _“It’s not going to work!”_ She mocked, but it was U’Din’s mangled voice that came out of her mouth instead. U’Din watched as she vanished behind the wall.

The blond straightened; so it _was_ a demon. U’Din needed to be careful. He had no fear of demons, but he fully acknowledged that they were dangerous and should not even be entertained. He needed to find a way to get out of here quickly—wherever he was.

“Josephine” started approaching him next, holding the same dagger “Leliana” used to slit “Cullen’s” throat. She laughed, “Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker!”

U’Din didn’t say anything. He just took the opportunity to study the demon, going by the knowledge he had on them—what kind was it? It couldn’t be pride. It would try to flatter U’Din, make his own pride be his downfall. It wasn’t a desire demon, either. It wouldn’t have tried to scare him a while ago if it was. Some kind of fear demon, then? But it mentioned something about _learning_. Fear demons wouldn’t waste time learning.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that the demon’s whisper made him jump. “Do you even realize what the Inquisition can become? You’ll see.”

U’Din grabbed the staff on his back and swung it back to hit the demon, but it wasn’t there. He heard laughing bouncing on the walls.

“Ah, quick instincts! Yes, yes, show me _more_! Hahahahahaha!” It laughed maniacally. “When I’m done learning everything about you, the Elder One will _kill_ you and ascend, then I will _become_ you!”

The Elder One. That corrupted templar Denam mentioned the same thing. Who or _what_ was it? U’Din was getting irritated with this, and maybe a little anxious too; who knew what could be happening at Therinfal? He had to help his companions! He had no _time_ for a demon’s games!

“Just what do you _want_ , demon?” He asked the walls. “I don’t possess anything that might interest you. I’m just a nobody. I don’t even _control_ the Inquisition. You’re wasting your time.”

“Wasting my— _arghh_!” The demon growled, and he heard a bit of its true voice. “You can’t be unaware! Do you not see?! Shall I use your obliviousness when I become you?!

“Glory is coming!” “Josephine” appeared behind him, and he backed away as the demon stalked towards him, backing him up against the wall. “The Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by _dying_ in the right way! I _will_ have your body! I will be _you_!”

“You can _try_.” U’Din sneered, narrowing his eyes at the demon. “In the meantime, I’m going to think about how to defeat you while you talk endlessly like the incompetent creature you are.”

“Josephine” growled and vanished behind smoke. U’Din jumped from the wall and went back to the open area, not willing to get himself cornered. “Cullen” then appeared, snarling and growling.

“You can’t toy with me! I am _no_ mere creature; I am _Envy_ and I _will_ know you!” It snarled at him, holding a dagger and stalking towards him. U’Din’s eyes widened. “Now tell me _Herald_ , in your mind,”

Instead of stabbing him like U’Din expected, it went over to a space where something else appeared. It looked like a mirror image of U’Din, but it was wearing the mercenary uniform that continued to give him nightmares. The demon stabbed _it_ instead, and the blond watched as his doppelganger fell to the ground.

“Tell me what you _think_!”

_Never!_

The demon summoned the war table and set the markers ablaze. “Tell me what you _feel_!”

_Not on your life!_

He heard himself cry out in pain, and he turned around to see his doppelganger holding its stomach and falling to the ground, bleeding. U’Din gasped when he saw a dagger in his own hand, and he quickly threw it to the ground.

“Tell me what you _see_.” It whispered in U’Din’s voice.

The doppelganger disintegrated, and he turned around, finding the demon no longer there. He glared up at the open ceiling, at the dark sky with little green cracks and mists.

So it was an _Envy_ demon. He... never thought he’d encounter one in his lifetime. But its behavior made sense; arrogant, covetous of mortals’ identities, yet cowardly and shrewd. That’s what U’Din read in his father’s journal, anyway. Wherever the demon took him, it was most likely a place where the blond would be most vulnerable.

 _“Tell me, Herald, in your_ mind. _”_

Were they... in his mind, then? U’Din shivered; it was probably best to defeat the demon before it consumed him. He saw a lit room on the other side, and he could see a crowd of... people? It was probably one of the demon’s machinations, but he had nowhere else to go.

 _‘I’ll just have to be careful, then.’_ He said, going to the room. Whatever the demon’s trials were, U’Din would have to try his best not to fail them.

He desperately hoped he wouldn’t, for his _companions’_ sakes.

 

* * *

 

He was failing.

Ever since stepping into that room, U’Din became flooded with memories he never, _ever_ wanted to revisit. That room showed him the memory of him waking up in Haven for the first time, when Cassandra had looked at him with _those_ eyes, snarled _those_ words. He could hear her cold voice echoing in the room:

 _“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you_ now _.”_

 _“Do you deny it?! Do you_ dare _deny your crime?!”_

He watched the scene, shaking. The demon... was stronger than he anticipated. This could be bad. Big and Noisy warned him, _this was what the demon wants to see._ _Don’t show it to him!_ But U’Din couldn’t help it. Every trial, every scene he came across only made him feel worse and worse. People bragging about the Inquisition’s subjugation of the world, of _his_ tyranny! He wasn’t even the leader of the Inquisition! Why—Why would the demon show him this?!

He took a deep breath and continued walking, trying to ignore the repeating accusations from Cassandra’s mouth. They bothered him though, made him feel anxious. And— _oh no_ , why was the demon impersonating _him_ in this scene?!

“Our enemies have surrendered unconditionally,” A “woman” wearing an Inquisition uniform reported blandly to the demon masquerading as him. “Flags were raised. They’re begging for our mercy.”

“The Inquisition’s strength rivals any kingdom in Thedas, Your Worship!” Another one dressed in the Inquisition uniform said, this time quite enthusiastically. “No one is a match for the Herald of Andraste, leader of the Inquisition!”

His doppelganger laughed, and the sound sent shivers up U’Din’s spine. He would _never_ laugh like that. “It seems our reach has begun to match my ambition. But this isn’t enough; we _will_ strive for more! More power, more glory— _everything_! Even if I have to burn everything to the ground first!”

The “soldiers” saluted him and said, “Yes, Your Worship!”

“That’s not me!!” U’Din denied vehemently, chest heaving. “I would _never_ say that! Never!!”

“Hm?” The doppelganger faced him, and an eerie, sinister smile appeared on its blackened face. “Are you bothered by imperfection?”

U’Din shut his mouth, and the demon laughed maniacally before disappearing into a flash of light and smoke. The blond cursed, hitting himself in frustration.

Fuck, _fuck_ , he gave himself away! The demon was getting to him, and it angered U’Din that it was! He was such a _weakling_! Ellana—Ellana was right. He wasn’t given the role of First not because of his lack of skill, but because he was such a _wimp_ —

His thoughts came to a halt when the environment changed. Instead of a hall with rotating columns spitting out magma, he was... in a forest. And not just any forest. There were markings on the trees, markings that he recognized very well. How could he not, when _he_ was the one who inscribed them with his own magic?

He heard children crying somewhere within the forest and he froze. Those... Those voices! He knew those voices! He looked over his shoulder and saw the path that led to—

His clan.

U’Din ran as fast as he could, pushing away vines and branches with his magic. He saw a clearing full of aravels—

But they were burning.

He stopped so abruptly he almost fell forward, and his back remained bent over as he watched his clan be engulfed in flames with wide, soulless eyes.

“You failed.”

He gasped and fell this time, looking for the source of the voice. He froze when he saw someone walking through the flames. The silhouette looked... familiar. Then, it clicked.

It was Ellana. And she looked _pissed_.

“U’Din. You fucking _wimp_!” Ellana said, face covered in soot and clothes burnt at the edges. She went over to him and pulled him up by the collar, snarling at him, “ _You_ did this! You and your fucking Inquisition! You fucking _monster_! You _butcher_! I should have known you were nothing but trouble! You fucking _failure_!”

U’Din’s felt like he got punched in the stomach for that one, and he winced in Ellana’s hold. W-What was that? She didn’t punch him, so why did—

“U’Din.”

Someone else walked out of the flames, and he was surprised to see that it was _Mahanon_ this time. He didn’t look angry, but he looked... sad. Pained. The hunter clenched his fists.

“You should have let me come with you, U’Din.” The hunter despaired. He laughed mirthlessly. “If you had taken me with you, I could have stopped this from happening to you. You would never have been a murderer. I keep telling you that you can’t do _anything_ without me, U’Din.

“But it’s too late. The clan is destroyed— _all_ the Dalish have been annihilated.” Mahanon mourned, looking at the burning aravels. He sighed. “This is what happens when you think you can do things on your own, U’Din. And now everything is gone. Because of _you_.”

Something in U’Din gripped his heart tightly, making him choke on air. The pain was so excruciating that he squirmed in Ellana’s hold. She let go of him, sneering as he tried to sit up. But he couldn’t. There was an unexplainable weight keeping him from standing up, and the hold on his heart made it difficult for him to breathe. So he lied on the ground, opting to expend what little energy he had on breathing.

He heard footsteps, but he was pinned to the ground so he couldn’t look up to see who it was. But the boots that stopped in front of him were familiar, and when he realized to whom they belong, he sobbed. No. _No,_ not her!! Anyone but her! _Fucking_ demon, messing with his memories! He buried his head in the grass, trying to ignore the disappointed sigh from the woman in front of him.

“U’Din, I’m so _ashamed_ of you.” The Keeper said. U’Din bit back his sobs. “I gave you the role of Second because I felt that, even if you didn’t deserve to be First, that you were good for _something_. But you weren’t; you were just a waste of space, time and resources. You even orchestrated the destruction of our clan, our _race_. You’re such a foolish boy, U’Din.

“But I am the bigger fool.” The Keeper lamented, eyes downcast. “For I have put my trust on you: an incompetent elf who did more harm than good. _Creators_ forgive me.”

Blood started spurting out of U’Din’s mouth, and he sobbed. They were right. He was a _failure_. He was _incompetent_. He was... a disappointment to the clan. Why did he ever once believe that he could do the right thing?

 _“Bothered by disappointment, shame—fear of death...”_ He heard the demon’s voice from somewhere, and then another maniacal laugh. _“Yes, yes, perfect! I’m learning so much from this! Hahahahaha!”_

He was a danger to everyone, wasn’t he? He should have known. He made so many mistakes; burnt aravels, hurt his clansmen, hurt _Cassandra_. The scenes the demon kept showing him would have probably come true, anyway. He’d become... a monster. His vision blurred, and he realized he was crying.

He lied on his back; nothing but the dark sky and tongues of flame in his sight. Something was... taking a hold of him. Creeping on his body, entangling him. The movements around him caused him to shift, causing his hair to fall on his eyes.

Hair. His hair had grown longer. Who... told him that?

 _“He likes your hair.”_ A familiar voice spoke from somewhere, and all of a sudden the movements around his body froze. _“He had hair once, a long time ago—back when everything was right to him. Now everything is harrowed, hazy, hairless. The strands have been cut, the song stopped while it is being sung. But you have one, deep inside you. That song... made him want to sing again. Maybe.”_

He felt someone’s presence appear beside him, and through the tiny gaps in his hair he saw white flashes. He heard the demon cry out in pain, which was strange. Was the demon the one trying to entangle him?

 _“ARGHH!”_ The demon’s voice echoed throughout the forest. _“Wh-What is this?! What are you?! What have you done to me?!”_

“You’re hurting. Helpless. _Hasty_.” The voice seemed so close to U’Din now. “You provoke him but prove that you have no other purpose. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?”

 _“GET OUT!!”_ The demon screeched. _“THIS IS MY PLACE, THING!”_

He heard a blade slash something on his chest. There was an otherworldly screech, and then sparks. U’Din gasped—he wasn’t bleeding at the mouth anymore. And he could _breathe_.

He sat up, looking around. Ellana, Mahanon and the Keeper were no longer around, and that relieved him. That—That was close. The demon probably used his brief memory of Ellana against him that time, and he had been so overwhelmed by the truths in their words that he just... lost it. He hung his head, ashamed of his weakness.

Now the demon knew quite a lot about him. What should he do?

The bright, warm lights flashed, and he looked up to see that no one was around. Further looking made him realize that the aravels were burning, but strangely intact. Slowly, he stood up and approached the burning camp, looking around to see what the demon had in store for him this time. When he wandered to check the forest, a voice made him jump.

“Wait.”

He turned around, trying to look for the source of the voice. It was... _that_ voice. The one that talked to him from time to time! What was it doing in his head?

Wait. The voice probably _did_ come from his head. Why was he even asking?

The voice sounded like it came from one of the aravels, so he moved to inspect that. But he felt a presence behind him, causing him to turn around with his staff in his grip.

“Envy is hurting you.” The voice said, wherever it was. “Mirrors on mirrors on memories. It wants your face—not to feel, but to _fake_.”

U’Din raised an eyebrow, keeping his guard up. Was this _voice_ an accomplice of that demon? It didn’t seem like it, but U’Din wasn’t taking any chances, especially after that shameful display a while ago—

“No! I want to _help_. But you, not Envy!” It denied, and the blond was now pretty sure that it read its mind just then.

U’Din looked around warily. “What _are_ you? Why do you keep following me around?”

“I’m Cole.” The voice sounded like it came from behind him, and U’Din quickly turned around, only to curse when he found nothing there. “I’ve been watching you. I told you that I would, didn’t I? Now we’re inside you. Or rather, _I_ am. You’re always inside you.”

U’Din went over to a bunch of crates near a burning aravel. It was the one he and Mahanon were assigned to maintain. The memory from a while ago made him shudder, and he stepped back, only to feel someone’s chest hit his back. He shrieked and turned to see a young man wearing a strange, oversized hat.

The young man triggered a memory in U’Din’s mind. The blond narrowed his eyes at him. “You... look familiar. I think I’ve seen you before!”

“Probably. But it’s not usually like this. Usually it’s just hearing, but that’s not usual at all, either.”

U’Din blinked at the strange shem-like being. “W-What?”

“It’s easy to hear. Harder to be part of the hearing, let alone be here _while_ you’re hearing.” The young man explained. “But now I’m here, hearing, _helping_. I hope.” It started walking around the camp, and U’Din could only watch the strange being’s movements.

“Envy hurt you. _Is_ hurting you.” Added the being, watching the burning aravel in fascination. “I tried to help when it held on to you, but now I’m here, in the hearing. It’s—It’s not usually like this. No, not at all.”

U’Din sighed and put his staff back in its holster behind him. He’s watched the strange being long enough to realize that he meant no harm, but he _was_ ready to cast a spell if he needed to. But its level of hostility wasn’t U’Din’s issue; the being made absolutely _no sense_ to him.

“Okay, whatever you are—“

“I’m Cole!”

“Oh. Okay, _Cole_.” The blond corrected himself. “I get that you want to help, like you said, but can you... please explain better? I was coughing up blood moments ago, so I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for riddles.”

U’Din jumped when he heard growling and screeching from the forest. He swallowed and backed away till he felt the heat of the fire. When he looked up, Cole was perched on a safe part of an aravel.

“I was watching. I _watch_.” Cole began, looking down at him. “Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker.”

“The Lord Seeker?” U’Din asked, turning around to look up at Cole better. “But he’s the demon. One of Envy. It wants to be _me_.”

The young man nodded. “Yes. It twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fate. They’re red inside.”

Red. The templars _did_ have weird red markings on their faces. As well as weird red crystals on their chests that suspiciously looked like... red lyrium.

U’Din’s eyes widened in realization. Oh _no_. They couldn’t be!

“In any case, you’re frozen now. The you outside is.” Cole hopped down from the aravel and went up to him. “Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it, and reached out, and then _in_. And then I’m here.”

“ _Frozen_?” The blond asked. He looked around his transformed mindscape before turning back to Cole. “Is it because I’m in my mind?”

“Yes. Thoughts are fast. While we’re here, a blade outside is still falling. Hanging in the air like the sunset.”

“That... _would_ make sense.” U’Din considered. He looked up at Cole. “But even if the world outside is moving at a relatively lower speed, the blade would _still_ eventually fall. Yes?”

“Yes. That’s why it would be good if you got out. Fast.”

“Easier said than done, Cole.” U’Din sighed, looking around. He furrowed his brows, still bothered by what happened a while ago. That... was going to haunt him for the rest of his days. But he couldn’t afford to think about that now; he had to defeat the demon somehow and take control again. “How do you suppose I get out of here?”

“I don’t think you should get out. It’s _your_ head. You belong here. You’d die if you did.”

“...Right.” U’Din accepted, sighing again. “So what now? The demon has seen quite a lot of me already. It’s probably still watching, even. I’m such an _idiot_ , why did—“

“Please stop that! You’re hurting yourself!” Cole suddenly walked up to him, making U’Din jump. The spirit looked pained; why, U’Din didn’t know. “All of _this_ is Envy: people, places, power. The more you think of things that hurt you, the more Envy will see.”

“That explains Ellana, then. And the rest of the clan.” U’Din said quietly. He shook his head. “I-I’m sorry, Cole. This shouldn’t be difficult for me, but—“

“I know. That’s why I’m here to _help_.” Cole said, his voice soothing and warm. The spirit pointed at where he came from. “If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more.

“Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, more and more and Envy breaks down. _You_ break out.”

That... made a lot of sense. The demon would need to expend quite a bit of energy to accomplish all the things it’s done so far. Did that mean U’Din had to keep... meeting people? Revisiting memories, horrible what-ifs? The thought scared U’Din; he didn’t want a repeat of what happened a while ago. Even with Cole with him, he’d probably wouldn’t survive it. He’d probably fail.

The elf shook his head; _no_. He shouldn’t be thinking of those things. Not right now. He had a job to do, and if he had to steel himself to get it done—U’Din swallowed. He nodded.

“A-All right. I agree with you.” The blond ignored the screeching from the forest. “We should probably get out of here, first. Make this world stretch like you said, yes?”

“That’s a start.” Cole nodded, then he looked around the camp. “We have to fix _this_ first. Ideas are loud here; make them _louder_. Think of... rain.”

Think of... rain? He quickly imagined storm clouds, then heavy drops of rain. The moment he did, the sky rumbled and lightning flashed in the dark sky. Rain started pouring on them heavily, coating them and the burning aravels with water. The fire hissed as it disappeared, leaving the aravels slightly singed, but otherwise fine.

Cole smiled at him and nodded. “Yes. Now this way. We need to make it stretch more.” The spirit started running towards the dark forest where the screeches and growls were the loudest. U’Din followed suit.

 _“That_ thing _can’t help you! I_ WILL _SEE MORE!!”_

U’Din looked up at the sky and glared, sneering slightly. He clenched his fists; fucking _demon_! He was going to defeat it and get his body back!

He... was not afraid of demons!

 

* * *

 

“So you... visit people’s minds, then?” U’Din asked, trying to ignore the refugees that were pointing at him and blaming him for their plight. Then a thought occurred to him. “W-Wait. If you can do that, doesn’t that mean you’re a spirit?”

“Does that bother you? I can always make you forget. That helps.” Cole replied, head inclined, hat hiding his face. Then he shook his head. “No, I can’t do that. Not now. You need all of you to fight, especially after _that_. Maybe later.”

U’Din frowned at that. He gasped when he felt something grab onto his pants, and a little boy with a bloodied, pained face looked up at him.

“You left us.” The boy said, gripping its decapitated stuffed animal to his chest. “You wanted to help but listened to _them_. You can’t do anything by yourself, can you?”

The blond drew in a shaky breath. This was probably the Hinterlands, then. He shook his head and imagined crates of resources, food, _clothes_ —he remembered finding the apostates’ resource cache and placed them around the refugee camps. The child in front of him disappeared in smoke, and he heard the demon hiss.

“You’re getting quite good at that.” Cole commented beside him. He was smiling. “That’s very good. I’m glad that you’re good.”

The environment shifted again, and the two found themselves in a prison. Not unlike the dungeon he found Cassandra in. And she was there, too, talking to the shem cleric that he never get to see again. Chancellor... Roderick, was it?

“The elf _failed_ , Seeker.” The man told Cassandra whose face was focused on his corpse on the table in front of them. “The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he _intended_ it this way!”

U’Din frowned. Then he heard mocking laughter from above him.

 _“Like the first Inquisition, you will bring blood and ruin and_ fear _!”_ The demon mocked him with words that made him wince. _“You will betray your allies, and they will curse your name forever! Hahahahaha!”_

He would _never_ betray his allies. He’d sooner die. He jumped when he felt Cole pat him on the shoulder, his pale face showing a comforting smile.

“Unless you don’t. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Cole reassured him, turning his head to the scene in front of them. “None of this is real unless you let it be.”

U’Din bit his lip, looking at his corpse on the table. “But what if—“

“It won’t.” Cole said. “As long as you don’t, it won’t.”

That... was good enough for U’Din. For now. He sighed and nodded, walking forward to meet the more of the demon’s trials. He would probably meet more people from the Inquisition, maybe even—he shook his head. No, none of this was real. Cole said so. He _believed_ so.

And that belief gave him the strength to press on.

 

* * *

 

When he got out of the room, the scenes became much worse; he encountered a scene where Mother Giselle was declared a heretic and put in prison on _his_ orders. He saw Cullen pacing in a cell, regretting his decision of letting U’Din turn the Inquisition into a butcher’s pit. And Josephine didn’t even _know_ why U’Din had thrown her behind bars!

U’Din would _never_ do this! He would _never_ hurt people, no matter who they were! He wasn’t cold-hearted! He wasn’t a _tyrant_! U’Din could care less about power or fame!

“It’s dark.” Cole said beside him, watching the horrible scenes with him. “But you could make it _not_ dark. Think of sparks.”

Sparks. Like... his hand? Before he could retract _that_ thought, his mark started glowing from the mouth of his gauntlet. Carefully, he removed it, hissing a bit when he accidentally hit the sensitive veins. He used his hand as a torch, lighting his and Cole’s way out of the prison.

When the light from his mark shed on the wrongfully-accused prisoners, the guards and the bars vanished into smoke. He heard another hiss from above.

“Keep going up.” Cole instructed, pointing at a flight of stairs that suddenly appeared. “Just remember that you’re _you_ more than Envy up there. And that tires it out.”

_“NO! I haven’t seen ENOUGH!”_

The blond ignored the demon and looked at where Cole was pointing. He furrowed his brows; up there? Up _where_? U’Din honestly wished that Cole wouldn’t talk in such a round-about way, but he supposed... that was how spirits talked. Maybe. He sighed and walked up the steps. 

 

* * *

 

 _“ARGH!!”_ The demon growled in frustration above him. _“Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?! It was so EASY before!”_

U’Din rolled his eyes, ignoring the demon since they were nearing the end of the stairs. He must be nearing the end of the trial; he could feel the demon’s frustration.

The two of them made their way up, and U’Din pushed the door open. Immediately, the mark stopped glowing and the environment in his mind changed once more. He blinked when he realized that he was now in a demon-infested Therinfal. Or outside it, since they were on the path.

“This is probably the last of its strength.” Cole commented beside him. “Keep going up. And _hurry_.”

“R-Right.” The blond nodded, carefully reattaching his gauntlet. He walked around the uprooted tree roots and fallen columns, seeing two shem warriors a few feet away talking in hushed, but panicked tones. He walked closer to hear them.

“What do you mean the chevaliers couldn’t stop them?!” The warrior asked the older one who was on his knees. “The Inquisition is _that_ powerful?!”

“There weren’t enough of them, boy!” The older warrior exclaimed. “Haven’t you heard? Val Royeaux is _burning_! The Herald marches _here_ next, in Orlais! He’s bringing more of his demons!”

Demons? U’Din would _never_ use demons! He wasn’t even in any position to lead an army! That was _Cullen_. This Envy demon must be so desperate if he was going to use someone like _him_ to lead an army.

“I don’t have the power to lead an army, _demon_.” U’Din said, ignoring the tutting from behind him. “If you think you can accomplish this by being me, then you’re wrong. I’m nothing. I’m a nobody.”

The blond flinched when he heard an inhuman, high-pitched screech. _“YOU FOOL! YOU CALL YOURSELF NOTHING, YET HOW CAN A MERE_ NOTHING _ACCOMPLISH WHAT YOU’VE DONE SO FAR?!”_

“That wasn’t just _me_. I had help from allies.” The blond replied, wincing again when the demon screeched at him once more.

“You made the Herald sketch his shapes, but what he saw, sees, _will_ see makes him stronger.” Cole said beside him.

 _“YOU! BE QUIET!!”_ The demon threatened. It growled. _“You wish to be difficult?! FINE! Then see the legacy of the Inquisition!_ YOUR _Inquisition!”_

“It’s not _mine_!” U’Din yelled back.

The two chevaliers vanished, and the gate that led to Therinfal opened. They could see demons fighting, hear men and women screaming in agony. U’Din and Cole shared a look.

“This is it. I can feel Envy getting desperate. It’s weak, weary.” The spirit told him. “And you’re getting stronger. Keep going up.”

U’Din nodded. “Right.”

The blond grabbed his staff and ventured forward into the demon-infested stronghold, Cole following suit.

 

* * *

 

U’Din jumped over the fade geyser before it could erupt and harm him. He almost tripped over the wooden stairs, but luckily Cole was there to balance him.

“Th-Thanks!” The blond breathed, following the spirit as they continued to run.

This trial—and hopefully the last—was a complete warzone. Demons kept following them, but only attacking when U’Din fell down or stopped. The fade geysers kept appearing under him, waiting to explode if he stopped for even just a second. He couldn’t stay in one place for too long; he’d be crushed and overwhelmed. He’d _fail_.

But U’Din didn’t want to fail. He was _not_ afraid of demons!

“Almost there. Keep going up!” Cole said from behind. “You’re making it hard for Envy to think. It’ll probably come out soon.

“It’s also angry. _Very_ angry.” Cole said gravely. Then he turned to U’Din. “But it’s okay. So are _you_.”

The blond faced forward and glared at the ground. Y... Yeah. He was. _Very_ angry. Envy made a fool out of U’Din earlier, perverting his memories and turning them against him. It was already bad enough that he was haunted by them every day of his life! What’s more, it implied that U’Din would be the kind of person to cause so much destruction. Why else did it think it could do the same if it had U’Din’s face?

They reached the top of the stairs, and the blond recognized it as the place where he met the “Lord Seeker.” He narrowed his eyes and gripped his staff. He was about to take a step forward when he felt something appear behind him, and he quickly turned his torso to strike at the demon with his staff.

 _“GYAHH!”_ It yelled. It took on its own version of U’Din, and with its demonic strength it managed to knock the blond back. It pushed him forward till his back hit the door painfully. It hissed at him.

“Unfair, _UNFAIR_!” It complained using U’Din’s mangled voice. It lifted him from the ground, and the blond gripped on the demon’s wrist. “That—That _thing_ kept you whole! Kept from giving me your shape! But I was close. So, _so_ close from taking you!!”

“What—“ U’Din struggled in the demon’s hold. Then he spat, “What could you possibly gain from being _me_? I don’t have the power that you want!”

“What could you— _arghh!!_ ” Envy pushed him further into the door, making the elf wince. “Do you really not _see_ what you can do?! What you’re capable of?! All this— _you_ have the power to do this!! And I want that power for myself!”

“Even—Even if I _did_ have the power,” Which he _didn’t_ , U’Din added in his head. “I wouldn’t use it for _this_!”

“ _What_?!” It hissed, narrowing its eerie, glowing eyes at him.

“Everyone—Everyone who knows me even a little bit would know that this is the exact _opposite_ of what I want!” U’Din said, his own eyes glowing a vivid violet. “You want to know me?! FINE! I hate death! I hate tyranny, I hate destruction! I hate it when people rub my weaknesses to my face! I hate it when I try do to do good but fail miserably! I hate being a _failure_! I hate being _me_!

“So you wanna be me?! GO AHEAD! TAKE MY FACE, YOU FUCKING DEMON! But the minute you attempt any of your wicked schemes, the Inquisition will catch on to you! They’ll find out that you’re a demon and they _will_ kill you!”

The demon let out an inhumanly shriek and lunged at U’Din with both hands, trying to strangle him. The blond gripped both of its wrists, slowly pushing it off of him. The demon screamed.

“NO ONE IS GOING TO STOP ME! NOT EVEN _YOU_!” Envy shrieked, but its movements were jerky, panicky. It did not expect U’Din to be able to push it back. “I’LL—I’LL SHOW YOU MORE PAIN THIS TIME! THE ELDER ONE STILL COMES, AND I _WILL_ GET MY—“

“It’s frightened of you.” Cole said from above a statue. The demon turned its head and growled.

“GET OUT OF— _GYAHHH!_ ”

U’Din took advantage of the distraction and kicked the demon off of him. His vision went red, and he clenched his left hand. White magic shrouded his hand, and a white, elegant-looking blade materialized out of it. He immediately felt the veins in his arm throb, but that didn’t deter him. U’Din let out a battle cry and slashed the demon in the chest.

First, he heard the demon scream. And then— _white_.

 

* * *

 

It was as if it all happened in one second. All those trials, those horrible memories and visions, that time when he _almost_ lost to the demon—seemed like hours to U’Din. But now he found himself in the same position he was in when the Lord Seeker grabbed him. The only difference now, of course, was that there was a spirit blade in his left hand, and that the wounded Envy demon was lying on broken pieces of the door.

The Envy demon was a hideous thing to behold: deformed, eyeless and emaciated. It stood up by bending backwards till its torso was under its hips, and it let out a high-pitched shriek before vanishing into a green mist. It retreated into a barrier deep within the hall.

“Th-The Lord Seeker!” Ser Barris called out, looking between U’Din and at the barrier. That—What _happened_? First the Lord Seeker grabbed the Herald, and all of a sudden it changed into... _that thing_!

U’Din craned his neck and shook his hand, making the spirit blade vanish. He hissed when he felt the veins throbbed, but he was taken aback when Solas grabbed him by the arm.

“ _U’Din_! What did I tell you about using your left hand?!” The hedge mage barked, causing him to shrink a bit. Solas took off his gauntlet slowly and clicked his tongue at the aggravated veins.

While he was pouring some of his magic into the mark, Sera grabbed onto his _other_ arm and started shaking him a little. “Hey, Droopy?! What was that all about, huh?! That—That _thing_ just—“

“Demons. It _had_ to be demons.” He heard Iron Bull mumble from behind him. When he turned his head over his shoulder, he saw the huge Qunari gripping its battleaxe tightly, his eyes not leaving the barrier. “Nobody said anything about _demons_. Getting into your head, messing around—fucking shitty shit _shit_.”

“Ey, Bull, quiet will you? I’m talking to Droopy here!” Sera complained half-heartedly. She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “So ‘fess up. What happened? I thought the Lord Sucker was gonna try to smooch you but all of a sudden he turned into _that thing_! What was it?!”

“An imposter. A _demon_.” U’Din replied to her. He turned to Ser Barris who stared at him wide-eyed. “The Lord Seeker had been possessed by an Envy demon. And for quite some time, I bet. You were all fooled.”

“E- _Envy_?! Maker—“ The templar recruit shook his head. “Those demons take on the identity of its victims. The Lord Seeker... might be caged or even dead.”

U’Din frowned and looked at the ground. He thought as much. His hahren had just finished healing his mark, and he tried smiling at the older elf to express his thanks. But all that came out was a brief, forced smile that didn’t really mean anything. As he put on back his gauntlet, his other companions noticed his strange behavior.

“Hey, Droopy, you all right?” Sera smacked him lightly on the arm to get his attention. “You look droopier than usual. It’s bad enough that you even _are_ droopy!”

“The Envy demon most likely tried to take over U’Din that time.” Solas explained to her, eliciting shocked looks from the Iron Bull and Sera. He turned to the blond mage with a concerned look on his face. “Are you all right? Envy is intelligent, scheming. It must have... tried to force you into submission using trickery.”

The blond bit his lip, and flashes of what happened in his mindscape filled his vision. He sighed and shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. He didn’t have time to obsess over his mistakes in that place. He can hate himself later. But right now, they had a demon to defeat.

“We... can discuss what happened later, hahren.” He replied softly, then he walked deeper into the hall. “Right now, we need to figure out a way to defeat this fucking thing. I bet Cole knows—“

He turned around to look for Cole, but was surprised to see him not there. He looked a bit more for strange clothes, pale skin and an oversized hat. But he couldn’t find anyone with those descriptions.

He blinked. Where was _Cole_?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARGHHH this took me a long time to edit because it was SO LONG. =))) This originally had 12k words, and I felt like the original chapter had so much information that you guys probably wouldn't appreciate it :)) So I decided to... cut this chapter OTL Sorry! But I think I ended this in an okay-ish place. Sorta. Huhu, sorry about that OTL The next parts will be transferred to the _next_ chapter, and I honestly think that's a better idea. :))
> 
> Lots of stuff happened. And... honestly I don't know what else to say. I'd really, REALLY appreciate feedback! I changed the Envy Demon scene quite a bit from the game because I felt like following the game would be too generic. And U'Din's different so obviously, his mindscape would be a bit different, too. But yeah, comments would be greatly appreciated! They give me life, honestly :))
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read! I appreciate all the kudos and love you've all given me so far <3 I LOVE YOU ALLLLL~
> 
> Edit: Holy crap guys, 75k words. We're almost at 100k!! :))) AND WE'RE NOT EVEN HALF DONE YET HAHAHAHAHAHA I'M SO SORRY OTL


	14. Not Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to update next week, so I might as well update now. :)) Is this too fast? OTL Sorry! I'll try to make a schedule for update days so you guys don't have to keep checking for an update due to my sporadic posting :))
> 
> Note: Note Beta'd. Any and all mistakes will be corrected later on :) **and tags have been edited. Please be advised.**

His companions and Ser Barris had no idea what he was talking about when he asked if they had seen a young man named Cole. Even _after_ he described what the spirit looked like. He bit his lip; what if Cole had been... _killed_ by that Envy demon? What if he was still stuck in U’Din’s head? If it hadn’t been for Cole, he wouldn’t have had made it out safely. U’Din hoped he was all right. Wherever he was.

Then the first wave of corrupted templars came.

After the brief fight, Ser Barris asked his fellow templars what they knew of the Envy demon and how to defeat it. The more informed members of the order claimed that it was a coward—an intelligent demon that studied, made less mistakes, but hid away when it was at a disadvantage. The barrier it created was something the templars in the room had no clue how to get rid of. The only templars who could possibly know about the barrier were the veterans, but the commanding officers were either turned or killed.

“But the lieutenants _may_ still be alive!” A templar knight claimed. “They chose to fight the corrupted templars! We could look for them!”

“But we _have_ to hold the hall. Those horrid things keep coming and attacking.” Barris said. Then he turned to the Herald. “Unless—“

U’Din understood and nodded. He was willing to find the lieutenants if they could help bring down the barrier. They decided that the templars would hold the hall while U’Din and his companions searched for the remaining lieutenants, but the mage made a face at that plan. The number of templars in the hall didn’t look too good; they could be overwhelmed if the four of them stayed away for too long.

But who said they _all_ had to go?

U’Din quickly turned to his companions and told them of _his_ plan: Iron Bull and Solas would have to remain to support the templars while he and Sera went out to look for the lieutenants. Sera squawked. The Qunari and his hahren both looked at him skeptically. They said lots of things, but generally they told him that his plan was _crazy_ and that they should _all_ go together.

The blond sighed irritably at their doubt and said, “ _Look_ , we don’t have time! Sera and I will be all right. She’s fast. I blur away. What’s important is that these templars stay _alive_. Who better to support them than you and Mr. Iron Bull?!”

Solas shook his head, frowning. “It’s too dangerous for the two of you to go by yourselves, U’Din! You’re a _mage_. And Sera is a rogue. Both of you are skilled, yes, but easily overwhelmed by those corrupted templars! _You_ don’t even have proper armor! Without the Iron Bull and I there to help—“

“ _These_ templars will _die_.” U’Din finished for him, sweeping his arm over the templars who were huddled together, discussing their plan of attack themselves. “And I refuse to let that happen! _No one is going to die_ _today_! Not while I’m here! _Understand_?!”

His three companions blinked at his sudden outburst, and it seemed like U’Din was too focused on his plan to even notice the change in his behavior. The three of them exchanged looks before nodding slowly, though they still looked unsure.

“O-Okay. I’ll go with you.” Sera nodded. Then she pointed a gloved finger at him. “B-But if I _die_ or get possessed by some creepy demon shite I’m going to haunt you! Or—Or try to possess _you_ next! Would serve you right!”

“I’d sooner die myself than let _you_ die, Sera.” U’Din said solemnly, flashes of what he had seen in his mind appearing before his eyes. He shook those thoughts away and walked towards the templars before he could see any of his companions’ reactions at his reply.

Ser Barris turned to him, and the blond explained that he was going to leave his two companions in the hall while he and Sera searched for the lieutenants. The templar knight also expressed his concern, but U’Din reassured him that he and Sera were enough for a search party.

The dark-skinned templar sighed and nodded. “All right. Be careful out there, Herald. And Maker watch over you.”

Out of respect, U’Din just nodded. Then he frowned when Ser Barris looked at his hands, seemingly troubled, “What’s wrong?”

“This—This is all because of that red lyrium, wasn’t it?” The knight asked softly, though the blond doubted that the question was directed at him. The knight clenched his fists. “I should have _known_. I knew the red stuff was risky! But—But they were _always_ giving us new lyrium! When the commanders tried it and nothing bad happened—Maker. We should have known. We _should_ have known. We—“

The knight stopped his rambling when U’Din placed a hand on the templar’s shoulder. When the templar gave him a questioning look, the blond just smiled kindly, “Stop blaming yourself. This isn’t _your_ fault. If anything, it’s your Lord Seeker’s, and it may have been the demon who ordered your superiors to take the red lyrium. You had nothing to do with this.”

Ser Barris bit his lip. “Regardless, we could have—“

“I know how you feel, Ser Barris. Trust me, I _do_.” The blond said empathically. And then he looked determined. “But right now we need to focus on defeating Envy. If we let it be, it would kill more of your brothers and sisters. And we _can’t_ let that happen, all right?”

“... Yes. Yes, you’re right. Absolutely right.” Ser Barris nodded. Gone was the self-doubt and self-loathing; the templar looked at the barrier with determination and the promise of a whole world of pain to those who betrayed them.

U’Din smiled. Now Ser Barris was reassured. That was great. He turned back and called Sera so they could start looking for the templar lieutenants. He heard Sera stretching her bow, and he gripped his staff tightly in his hand.

For all the deaths these _monsters_ have caused, U’Din was going to show _no mercy_.

 

* * *

 

His plan worked. Which was... surprising. He hoped it would, of course, but he had come up with it so quickly that he feared it wouldn’t turn out well. U’Din would thank a god for his luck if he believed in any.

Sera covered her arrows in explosive oil and shot at one of the templars. The friction caused the oil to spark, and the arrows exploded on impact. She whooped, “Hahahaha! Eat _that_!”

“Sera! Don’t wander too far!” The blond mage called out and covered them both in a barrier. He saw a templar rushing towards him and quickly paralyzed him, letting the archer take care of him with her critical shots. The two of them quickly retreated to safer ground.

The reason why he chose Sera to go with him instead of Iron Bull or Solas was because she was fast. And _he_ was fast too, kinda. For a mage, anyway. The corrupted templars attacked them, but the two elves were so fast and quick-witted that they managed to kill all of them with just their ranged attacks. There _had_ been close calls, of course; when one of the red-laden templars transformed into a hideous monster, U’Din didn’t have time to block its powerful attacks with a barrier. So, as a compromise, he just held onto Sera and blurred them out of harm’s way.

When the skirmish was over, Sera whacked him on the head with her bow. _Hard_. He glared at her as he rubbed his head. “ _Hey_! What the hell was that fo—“

“ _You_.” She pointed at him, snarling. “You—You do that magicky thing to me again and I’m going to shove my arrows up your arse!!”

“ _What_?” The blond exclaimed indignantly. “But I _helped_ you! You were going to get sliced open if I didn’t get you out of the way!”

“I was going to evade it, you friggin’ _tit_!” Sera tried whacking him again, but U’Din summoned a barrier before she could hurt him. She huffed and stowed her bow away. “I’m gonna let you off _this_ once, yeah? Consider yourself lucky. Friggin’ _turd_.”

The blond sighed and shook his head. Reasoning with the blond archer was useless. Instead he just ran towards the tower where he heard fighting, ignoring Sera blowing raspberries at him.

They came across a lieutenant fighting corrupted templars alone on the top. They helped him and quickly told him to head back to the hall where the other templars were. While they were running back towards a hall, U’Din couldn’t help but notice a locked room. It read _Lord Seeker’s Office_. He told the lieutenant to go ahead, and he jogged towards the locked room.

“Hey, Droopy!” Sera caught up to him and nudged him with her elbow. “What’re you looking at? I thought we were going to go back to the hall and help out?!”

“Sera, can you unlock this for me?” He pointed at the room.

She looked at the placard once and huffed, pushing him a bit so that she could unlock the door. It took her a while, and she used that time to say, “Y’know, you could probably just knock this door down with your stupid magic or something. Or break it with your glowy sword.”

U’Din blinked. Huh. He never thought of that. But the archer managed to open the door anyway, and inside was—they both froze.

Eyes. So many _eyes_.

“Eughhh, _nasty_ taste!” Sera looked at the drawn eyes on the walls in disgust. “What kind of person was this Lord Sucker anyway? Have some sort of eye fetish?”

U’Din approached the walls and pressed a finger against the “paint.” It was only after he felt the texture between his fingertips did he realize, “This isn’t paint. It’s _blood_.”

“What?!” Sera balked. “ _Shite_. That’s messed up. Friggin’ _messed up_!”

U’Din agreed wholeheartedly, feeling queasy at the thought of someone dying for _this_ to happen. He shook his head and saw something shining at the corner of his eye. He noticed a key. It could be important, so he told Sera to pick it up while he inspected the room even further. On the other side of the room, he found a note. He frowned while he read it.

 _‘Be wary: every templar will be on the watch for what you are.’_ He read in his head. He continued till the end, but reread the last two lines, _‘Remember: Seekers have no place in the new world our master is building. The life of “Lucius Corin” ends with you.’_ The blond’s frown deepened.

Who sent this letter? Could it be the so-called Elder One the demon kept mentioning before? And Lucius Corin... that was the name of the Lord Seeker. Did this letter proved that he was dead, then?

“Hey, what’s _this_ thing?” Sera exclaimed all of a sudden, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see her squinting at a statue with a dagger stabbed into the head. She huffed. “It’s just the bust of the empress. Hahaha. _Bust._ Anyway, she sure has stupid hats! This one looks like a friggin’ dagger—oh wait. _Piss_!”

U’Din walked up to the statue and saw that a letter was attached to the head by the dagger. He recognized the statue to be the bust of Orlais’s current empress: Celene. He read the letter, and it was some sort of... promise. Or threat. He was willing to bet it was the last one. Before he could hide the letter in his satchel, he felt someone appear in front of him. He jumped when he saw who it was.

“C- _Cole_!” The blond mage exclaimed. “You—You scared me! Where have you been all this time?! I thought the demon got you!”

“Here.” The spirit replied simply. He gestured to the bust on the desk. “The empress—the Elder One wants her dead. He hates her, haunts her, wants her dead but hides _why_. He hid other things, too.”

U’Din blinked. “Other things?”

“Lots of things. Templar leaders. Lies. _Lyrium_.” Cole responded helpfully, turning his head to the right. He vanished before U’Din could question him, and he was suddenly bonked on the head by Sera.

“Snap out of it, Droopy! We don’t have time to daydream!” She chastised. Then she shivered. “Eugh, can we go now? This place is giving me the creeps. I think I got the chills just a while ago. Like something— _eughh_!”

U’Din turned his head to where Cole had been looking and hummed. He wondered. He nodded at Sera and said, “All right. Let’s go.”

“Oh frig, _thank_ _you_!” She said, following him out of the room.

Then she tried to bonk him on the head again when he tried to enter _another_ room.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, _boss_!” The Iron Bull walked over to him and Sera after they came back. He was covered in a _lot_ of blood and some wounds, but he didn’t look like it bothered him at all. “You missed the fight of the century! Hahaha, you should have _seen_ my moves! I wiped the floor with those guys! Ahh, I’m getting so pumped! Forget what I said a while ago; best idea _ever_ , boss!”

Solas appeared beside him in a shroud of blue mist. “Are you all right, da’len?”

“The mark’s fine, hahren.” U’Din reassured him. “I didn’t use my spirit sword at all. Sera and I were able to dispatch enemies with our attacks.”

Solas frowned at him. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about _you_. Are you all right?”

The blond mage blinked, tilting his head a little. “Of course I’m okay. What do you mean?”

“They kicked _arse_ is what he meant.” Sera butted in before Solas could respond, looking quite impressed at the amount of enemy corpses littered around. Then she looked smug. “And _we_ kicked arse, too. Not bad for a rogue and mage, eh?”

“We also found the lyrium caches. As well as... _red_ lyrium.” U’Din said, frowning. “The red lyrium being kept with the regular lyrium might not be a good idea; there’s a possibility it could be corrupted if we don’t get it out here right now.”

“That templar Barris might want to hear that.” Iron Bull said. He gestured towards the templars who looked exhausted after the first wave of enemies. “I meant it when I said your idea had been great, boss; if Solas and I went along, there’s a big chance that these guys could have been reduced to half by the time we got back.”

“... Thank you. I think.” He said, not really knowing what else to say. He cleared his throat. “Okay, um, I should inform Ser Barris about the lyrium cache. Then Sera and I will go ahead and look for the other lieutenants.” U’Din said. He jogged towards the templar knight, missing the way Solas followed his movements with a frown.

 

* * *

 

It took U’Din and Sera almost an hour to get the remaining lieutenants. The two they rescued claimed that the others had died before they could reach them, and U’Din almost hit himself on the head with his staff when he found out. Sera managed to stop him, though; he was surprised when she suddenly held on to his arm, like she _knew_ what he was going to do.

But instead of commenting on it, the blond archer just said, “We got three of them now, yeah? That’s more than enough, methinks. We did good work, okay?”

The sudden shift in her demeanor caught him off guard, and he just nodded. But pretty soon she was complaining and doing stupid things again, like annoying the lieutenants that went back to the hall with them. U’Din apologized to them on her behalf.

He missed the way Sera frowned at him in concern.

 

* * *

 

Once the veteran templars finished destroying the barrier, the red templars they were holding off fell, defeated. Every templar in the hall cheered, but Ser Barris lifted a hand to silence them.

“We are not done yet, brothers and sisters! We still have the _demon_ to face!” Ser Barris said to the quiet group of templars. He turned to U’Din, nodding at him. “The demon awaits. Are you ready?”

“Fuck _yeah_ , we’re ready!” Sera raised her bow in the air and cheered. “Let’s kick this demon’s butt!”

Iron Bull growled something about demons being stupid and _fuck_ , they deserve to die! Solas just stayed quiet, but he prepared himself for the battle ahead. U’Din shared a look with his companions before nodding at the templar knight.

“We’re ready.” He said. The templar saluted him and his companions as they went up the steps.

“There’s no telling what the demon will try to do to win the fight. Everyone, stay on your guard.” Solas advised from the back, his hands glowing in preparation for spell casting. Sera and Iron Bull readied their weapons, obviously pumped.

U’Din nodded, also preparing himself. He craned his neck, making a pop sound. He saw the demon’s ugly face outside, and his vision became red. He growled lowly. Fucking demon wouldn’t know what hit it.

He heard demonic screeching, and U’Din and his companions stopped in front of the ghastly-looking demon. It was bleeding on the front, and the blond remembered that he had struck it in his head.

“I touched so _much_ of you!” The demon snarled, bleeding but still standing. “But you were selfish, so, so _selfish_ with your glory! Now I’m no one! _I_ have become a nobody!”

“This was in your head, boss? _Fuck_ , it’s ugly.” Iron Bull growled behind him, but he could detect a bit of fear in the Qunari’s voice. He also heard him swing his battleaxe. “Let me at’em, boss. I’ll crush it to pieces!”

U’Din walked forward and pointed his staff at the demon threateningly. “Your end is nigh, _demon_! I won’t let you destroy lives and kill innocents! I’m stopping you right here, right _now_!”

The demon laughed mockingly, “You can try, _worm_! _GYAAHH_!” Envy extended its arm and moved to strike at U’Din, but recoiled when its attack was blocked by white flashes. “ _What?!_ ”

“Dark and desperate; death to make yourself alive. I used to be like you.” U’Din found Cole appearing in front of him, but his other companions didn’t seem to notice the spirit. Cole held a dagger in each hand as he glared up at Envy. “I’m not anymore. And you shouldn’t be, either!”

Envy screeched and launched another attack. U’Din immediately commanded his companions to split up; Iron Bulled rolled out of the way, Sera jumped, and he and Solas blurred to safety. The demon took advantage of their separation and focused its attacks on him and Solas. Their barriers sparked and lit with each attack from its claws.

It screamed when Sera shot an arrow at its spine. Before it could move to retaliate, it fell back from Iron Bull’s strike. U’Din and Solas remained at the sides, supporting their companions and unleashing devastating elemental attacks on the demon.

But U’Din couldn’t help but be amazed by _Cole_. If he thought _he_ was fast, he had _nothing_ on the spirit! He was silent, deadly, and remained hidden unless he was going to attack. He focused hard on the demon, like he had marked it for death.

The demon sensed that it was in danger and vanished into the ground, appearing soon after behind a green barrier. Red templars emerged from more barriers, and U’Din swore.

“It’s trying to hide!” Cole informed him. “Get rid of the red templars, and the barrier breaks!”

“Thanks, Cole.” The blond nodded at the spirit. He told his companions to defeat the red templars before attempting to attack the demon hiding behind the barrier. Once they were done, the barrier broke and the demon let out a paralyzing wail.

U’Din gritted his teeth, trying to force his body to fight the paralysis. He looked up at the demon looming over him, its deformed mouth and jagged, sharp teeth near his face.

“ _What could you possibly gain from being me?_ ” It threw back U’Din’s earlier question in his face. It screeched, “EVERYTHING! I still know you, _enough_ to be you! The Elder One promised you to me, and if I can’t have you— _grkk_!”

Its leg got stuck in ice, and the blond heard Solas grunting behind him. It was possible that his hahren had broken out of paralysis, but only enough to damage the demon a little. The attack motivated him to try and break free as well.

U’Din’s arm shook, and he managed to get his right hand to move. He put his two fingers on his forehead and sent out a blast of energy from his mind; not damaging the creature, but staggering it to break the paralysis spell.

“Friggin’ _shit_!” Sera growled angrily and reached for four arrows from her quiver. She coated them in fire and cried, “EAT _THIS_!”

Envy wailed, its body engulfed in flames. It teleported out of harm’s way, but it let out a surprised shriek when it was suddenly pulled back.

“Oh, you’re not going _anywhere_!” Iron Bull held onto the grappling hook and grunted, pulling the chain closer to him. Once the demon was right in front of him, he let go of the chain and spun around, striking at the demon consecutively.

“Not fair, NOT FAIR!!” The demon wailed, bleeding all over and barely able to stand. But it used what little energy it had to blur past Iron Bull, and it appeared before Sera. The archer tried to jump back, but the demon’s wail paralyzed her. Her eyes showed fear as the demon’s claws descended upon her.

U’Din’s eyes flashed, and he vanished in a mist of blue, then appeared right in front of her. He was about to cast a barrier around them both but—

Claw against flesh. _Blood_.

U’Din cried out in pain as the demon’s claws sliced his chest. He breathed heavily, overwhelmed by the pain from the wounds that just added to the old ones around his stomach. 

“ _U’DIN_!” Solas yelled. The hedge mage snarled at the demon and summoned a fist from his staff. He shot it towards the demon, causing it to stagger and step back.

“You asked for it!” Iron Bull came around and struck it two times, further wounding it.

The demon kept wailing, crying, yelling in its mangled, demonic voice of how unfair it was, how it was supposed to _rule_ , to set the world ablaze. It kept ranting and yelling, body bent over in exhaustion.

U’Din turned to Cole and yelled, “Cole, do it!”

Cole vanished, and then appeared right behind the demon. Before Envy could react, Cole jumped onto its back and decapitated it. Everyone watched as the demon struggled, headless, but eventually fell to the ground, dead. They waited a few moments before sheathing their weapons.

“Is—Is it _dead_? _Please_ say it’s dead.” Sera hesitantly approached the demon’s headless corpse. She made a face when U’Din approached it. “Friggin’ thing. It’s not going to come back to life now, is it?”

U’Din looked up at Cole who just nodded. He turned back to Sera and gave her a small smile. “Yeah. It’s dead.” His face contorted when he twisted his body, aggravating the wounds on his chest. He heaved, and he fell back, only to be caught by Solas.

“U’Din!” He exclaimed. He leaned forward to see blood gushing out of the three claw marks on the blond’s chest. He steadied U’Din before going around to look at the wound more closely. He winced. “It looks like the demon’s attack opened your old wounds. Tsk, _fenedhis_! U’Din, had I cast another barrier—“

“It—It’s _fine_ , hahren. I took a long time to cast it, too. This is my fault—“

“ _Damn right_ , it is!” Sera exclaimed, marching up to him. She looked restless, uneasy, and she kept looking between his wound and his face. “You—You _saved_ me! But you didn’t have to, you shit! Now you friggin’ got yourself hurt! I could have—I could have _done_ something!”

“You were paralyzed, Sera. You couldn’t have moved.” U’Din replied. Then he shook his head. “Look, it’s _fine_ , all right? Didn’t I tell you before? I would sooner die myself than let _you_ die. Any of you.”

The elf archer didn’t know what to say. Then she raised her fist and walked towards him, as if she was about to punch him, but looking at his wound made her pause. Instead she took her bow and started shooting at random things, yelling obscenities and how much of a stupid tit he was. U’Din sighed.

“She hasn’t needed to say _thank you_ before. Not for something like this.” Cole said, walking up to him. “She doesn’t hate you; don’t worry.”

U’Din sighed again and just nodded, then he hissed when Solas poured some of his magic onto U’Din’s chest. It... tingled. And having Solas touch his bare chest with his fingers made him feel... strange. But he didn’t entirely _hate_ the feeling. Maybe.

“I apologize. I do not know much healing magic, and it appears that your... _sickness_ is not allowing the blood to clot and heal the wound.” Solas informed him gravely, taking a step back to look at the wound. He frowned at U’Din. “What do you do about these wounds? You simply cover them up?”

“Y-Yeah. With bandages.” He opened his satchel and took out a roll of bandages. “I bring a lot since I need to replace them at least once a day. This should be fine.”

There was that suspicious look again, but Solas decided not to comment any further. He looked at the demon’s corpse and said, “Despite your wounds, we managed to defeat the demon. Well done, U’Din. Whatever you did, it killed the demon in one blow.” He said, referring to the demon’s severed head a few feet away.

The Dalish blinked up at his hahren. “Me? You thought _I_ did it?”

“Who else could it have been?” Solas asked, raising an eyebrow. Then his eyes widened slightly, shifting. “Unless—“

“Hey, not that I don’t like standing around dead demons or anything,” Iron Bull began uncomfortably, still looking at the dead Envy demon. He shook his head. “But we should probably head back, boss. The templars would want to know that we’ve killed the damn thing.”

“The Qunari is correct. We should inform the templars of what happened. Then we can look at U’Din’s wound more closely later.” Solas said, sending U’Din a look that said _we will talk_. U’Din sighed as Solas started to walk back to the stronghold. The others followed him soon after; Sera still cursing and shooting, even though Iron Bull lifted her up like a sack.

U’Din took in a deep breath and exhaled. It... was over. Thank goodness. He turned to Cole who was just watching him silently. He inclined his head towards the spirit. “Thank you so much, Cole. You’ve helped us a lot in killing this creature.”

The spirit looked at him for a few moments before shaking his head. “I only moved because _you_ told me to. You make the best plans. You always did.”

The blond tilted his head at the spirit, wondering what he meant. Then, he was startled when suddenly the demon’s body disintegrated and turned into a bright, green mist, not unlike the swirling Breach in the sky. U’Din became even more shocked when the mist suddenly started moving towards _him_. He blocked his face with his arms, but the mist didn’t seem to want to hit him. Instead, it vanished somewhere... in his satchel.

He heard whistling in his ears and yelped. He looked down at his satchel and cried out, “W-What was _that_?! Where’d it go? It—“

“The templars.” Cole cut him off softly, pointing at the crowd of templars back in the stronghold. “They’re waiting for you. You should probably go.”

U’Din turned to look at the templars, then back at his satchel. He frowned concernedly. “B-But that thing. It did something to my bag. What if—“

“The demon is dead, done. What came back was the power that controlled it.” Cole started walking away, leaving a gaping U’Din alone. “It just went to look for a new place to live. That’s all.”

The blond blinked at the spirit’s back, then at his satchel. He made a confused face; a new... place to _live_?

 

* * *

 

After U’Din wrapped his body with new bandages, he went over to join his companions. Ser Barris looked at him in concern, silently asking what happened to him. The blond just shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. The demon is dead, Ser Barris.” He informed him, smiling slightly. “Your order has no need to fear any longer.”

The templar knight let out a sigh of relief, and the templars behind him cheered and even praised him. U’Din shifted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to the attention.

“Herald.” Lord Abernache walked towards him, holding his head slightly lower than usual. He cleared his throat and said, “I sincerely apologize for... losing countenance amidst the chaos. I did not mean to simply stand idly while you battled those cursed creatures. I do hope it won’t affect our concord?”

U’Din shook his head. “You needn’t fret, Lord Abernache. Our alliance is valued as ever. I’m glad you’re safe, though.”

“... Yes. Quite.” The nobleman cleared his throat again and inclined his head before stepping back, allowing Ser Barris to approach him.

“Andraste be praised,” He breathed, looking at the gardens. It was devoid of demons and red templars. He smiled. “She guided you during your fight and shielded you from the demon’s touch—well, _most_ of you. We thank you, Herald, for slaying the demon.”

The blond, again, respected the knight’s words and nodded in thanks. He rubbed at his right arm. “You helped too, Ser Barris. All of you did. I would not have defeated the demon alone; you, the templars and my companions made it possible.”

His companions smiled at his modesty; even Sera, who was still sore about U’Din getting hurt because of her, couldn’t control her lips twitching. Cole looked _immensely_ happy, though no one but U’Din could see him.

“But we still owe you our thanks, Herald.” Ser Barris told him, turning to join his fellow templars. “Without you, we couldn’t have prevented ourselves from turning into one of them. Our officers either failed to see the tragedy that awaited us, or were accomplices to the demon. We owe you our lives, Your Worship.”

The blond shifted uncomfortably again. “Hey, now, I didn’t really—“

“The templars are ready to hear what the Inquisition needs of us.” Ser Barris interjected, standing tall with the rest of the templars.

U’Din gulped. He had been so busy dealing with the demon that he honestly forgot about what the four of them came for. So much for being responsible. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at the massive rift in the sky, and then found his determination. He took in a deep breath through his nose and walked over to the templars.

“The Inquisition seeks to seal the Breach, but it cannot do so on its own.” He began, trying not to let the templars’ attentive stares get to him. “We need the templars’ help in suppressing its power. And after that, help in fixing the world so that everyone can be safe again.”

The templars exchanged looks with each other and nodded. Ser Barris spoke up for all of them, “You speak truths that we never should have ignored, Herald. We should have trusted our instincts, yet we let authority cloud our judgment.

“But we are without a leader, gutted by betrayal. In order to help the Inquisition at our best, we must rebuild and regroup.” The dark-skinned knight said, sounding regretful.

“No, _no_.” Cole said from behind him. “That would take too long, too much time. We need them now, as they are.”

U’Din frowned, silently agreeing with Cole. “Ser Barris, with all due respect, we can’t simply delay sealing the Breach. If we are to act, we must act _immediately_.”

“Then what must we do, Your Worship?” A knight behind Ser Barris queried.

“Yes! What does the Herald of Andraste think we should do?”

“The templars have spoken, Herald.” Ser Barris said, nodding at him. “Whatever you command, we shall wholeheartedly accept. We owe you that much.”

The blond frowned at the ground, rubbing his chin. The order was obviously too broken to stand on its own; though they still had veterans, they are but few in number. What remained in Therinfal were mostly knights. Some were probably just new recruits or scribes! Allowing them to rebuild at such a state would be stupid, take too much time. Time they didn’t have.

U’Din suppressed a groan; how he wished the shems gave him more instructions. But it’s not like they expected the Lord Seeker to be a demon in disguise, did they? He was tempted to just postpone his decision, tell the templars to head to Haven where the shems can decide by themselves, like he did with Iron Bull—

“No, you must decide now.” Cole spoke. “You _know_ what to do. You _always_ do.”

The blond grew quiet at that. Cole was right. He... _knew_ what to do. Logic dictated that it was a waste of time to wait for them to rebuild. Inviting them as free allies was an option, of course, but... they were leaderless. How can an order function without a leader? They were also inexperienced, considering they floundered and panicked when they realized their commanders had become monsters. U’Din wasn’t sure he was willing to trust allies who had no idea what to do.

So came U’Din’s idea: _conscript_ them. Have them serve the Inquisition for as long as they were needed. Once the Breach was sealed and the world fixed, the templars could always reform their order. Also, becoming knights of the Inquisition would give them experience; wouldn’t that be beneficial to them? Not only could they help the masses and redeem themselves, but they could also learn how to better function as an organization.

The first Inquisition had ended that way too, didn’t it?

The templars listened to his offer, making sure to bring up his points to make his stand easier to accept. They were silent, and for a while U’Din was sure they were going to reject. But he was surprised when the first templar knelt. Followed by another. And another. And _another_.

“If it is the only way to atone for our failure, the templars will serve the Inquisition!” Ser Barris declared. “The order... will disband! We will take up the Inquisition’s banner!”

The templars saluted, and U’Din felt uncomfortable again. It was wonderful that they accepted his offer, but the whole situation made it seem like... they were referring to _him_. He suppressed a shiver when he was once again assaulted by memories of the Envy demon’s trickery. U’Din was going to have a _very_ difficult time forgetting that, if he ever did.

Ser Barris explained that they would be need weapons, a place to train and to rest. U’Din nodded, mentally taking down the things the templars needed to have before they arrived at Haven. It didn’t take long for the Inquisition agents and templars to go their separate ways.

U’Din sighed. He dearly, _dearly_ hoped he wasn’t going to get flak from the shems for this. He... didn’t know what he’d do if they _dared_ complain. Not after what U’Din had to go through today.

Not far away, an owl perched on a tree branch watched him leave Therinfal with his companions. When he reached the bottom of the hill, it took flight and followed him.

 

* * *

 

“Ooh, look at you, all dressed in new clothes and stuff. You look like an entirely different person.” She teased, snickering at U’Din’s new outfit. “You look like a noble, which pisses me off, but you look less like a bum now, I guess.”

“Speak for yourself,” The Iron Bull snorted behind her. She blew a raspberry at him.

“You ain’t one to talk, Mr. Baggy Pants! You look more like a bum than I do!” Sera raised her fist at him. Then, as an afterthought, snorted and pointed at Solas. “And so’s Baldy. He’s probably the realest bum here.”

Solas sighed and lightly glared at her. “Was that _necessary_?”

“Of course! As a matter of fact, we _all_ look like bums!” Sera said, celebrating their solidarity. She turned to U’Din and snorted, “Except for Droopy now, of course. Now he’s... _Goldy_.”

U’Din frowned down at his replacement clothes. The nobles he had saved in Therinfal thanked him for his actions and vowed to not forget him. When they saw the state of his clothes, they immediately gave him new outfits to replace his torn one. He was grateful, of course, but he just wished they all weren’t so... _gold_.

He growled a bit; he _hated_ gold with a passion. He didn’t understand why, but something about the color just made him feel— _ugh_. What’s worse was that the one he currently wore had the most gold of them all. He shook his head and said, “I wasn’t about to decline such a generous offer, was I? Even though this is just a bit too much.” He frowned at the cravat around his neck. It was gold, too. _Eck._

Sera scrunched her nose. “Yeah, the look doesn’t suit you. Don’t look good in anything flashy. Oh, by the way you tit, I’m _still_ not letting that thing you did a few days ago go.”

The blond sighed tiredly. “You’re _still_ obsessing over that? Sera, I’m sorry for insulting you if I did, but I’m _not_ sorry for protecting you.”

“Well—You—I—“ Sera sputtered. Then she growled, “Whatever! This isn’t _over_. Pissy elf thinks he can do whatever he wants to? Uh, no way! Expect spiders in your bedroll next time. Or something.”

U’Din indulged her with a nod. He wasn’t afraid of spiders, anyway. What he _did_ fear were undead. And Cassandra. He doubted that the archer would be able to put either of _those_ in his bedroll. He groaned and shook his head when he realized what he just thought.

“Before you threaten the Herald with pranks, Sera, I’d like to inquire about his wounds.” Solas began. He turned to U’Din. “Are you all right? Your wounds aren’t bothering you?”

“Not really.” He replied. He left out the fact that his new wounds, like the old ones, hadn’t showed any signs of healing. They just... stayed on his body. He no longer questioned it since it had always been like that ever since he got the wound on his shoulder, but he supposed his companions didn’t know that.

Solas raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you sure? If you need to rest, don’t hesitate to say so. We might be nearing Haven, but if you can’t handle it—“

“Thanks, hahren, but I’m okay.” U’Din interjected softly, turning a bit to smile. “It’s better if we get back to Haven as fast as we can, anyway. I’d... like to get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” Sera asked, confused. Then her eyes lit up, “Oh! You mean telling Cassandra and the other biggies about what happened? Well, what’s wrong with that? Shouldn’t they be, y’know, happy about what we did?”

U’Din didn’t say anything. Instead, he just frowned at the snow being crushed under his feet. It deepened when they passed the first Inquisition banner. He sighed.

When they reached Haven, a scout came to meet them. He said that the shems wanted to speak with U’Din about what happened at Therinfal.

“They probably already received the missive.” Iron Bull said after the scout saluted and left. He turned to the blond mage, “Should we report with you, boss?”

U’Din was tempted. He didn’t want to face the shems by himself, but he knew that whatever they wanted to talk about, he had to go alone. And he still didn’t forget about Iron Bull being Ben-Hassrath. So he shook his head and smiled politely at them.

“No, it’s okay. I should... probably deal with this alone. You should all rest. It’s been a long, few days.” He said.

Sera frowned. “ _You’re_ more tired than the rest of us. Can’t you take a break? Like, a little nap?”

“Normally I’d urge you to do your duties, however,” Solas spoke up as well, eyeing him worriedly. “The wounds you endured were rather grave. I suggest you rest first. The Seeker and the rest would understand.”

No, they _wouldn’t_. But U’Din didn’t say that. Instead, he shook his head, “I’ll rest after speaking to them. It probably won’t take too long.”

Before his companions could protest or react, U’Din jogged over to the Chantry. He saw Varric and shared a brief smile with him, silently promising to visit after he spoke with the shems. The smile quickly vanished as he stood in front of the Chantry doors. He took in a deep breath and pushed them open—

Only to see the shems in front of the War Room, discussing loudly, _heatedly_.

“It was not _his call_!” Cullen’s words made U’Din freeze in his tracks. He waved around a letter in his hands. “Disbanding the order should have been _our_ decision! Not simply his!”

“Commander, _calm yourself_.” Cassandra spoke firmly, glaring at the blond warrior. “The Herald did what he thought was best. The summary of what happened _should_ already tell you that the situation had been worse than what we thought. _Far_ worse.”

“That—That is _true_ ,” Cullen relented, pacing a bit. “What they found in the captain’s quarters means that the officers willingly blighted _half_ of their knights with red lyrium. It’s—It’s unbelievable.”

“Even _before_ some of them realized that the Lord Seeker was replaced by a demon, I might add.” Cassandra frowned.

“Regardless, he should _not_ have acted by himself. He should have consulted with us!”

Leliana sighed, and her eyes shifted to the side. In doing so, she saw U’Din. She straightened. “Herald! You have returned.”

The rest of the shems turned to look at him, and he found himself unable to move. He just stood there, by the Chantry doors, trying to gauge the mood. It was... tense. U’Din found himself gulping as he tried taking a few steps forward.

But Cullen met him half way. “Herald, you should _not_ have decided by yourself. Disbanding the order was a _drastic_ decision! It should have been agreed upon by all of us!”

“I would not have worded it like the Commander here, but I _would_ have preferred the templars as free allies.” Josephine added diplomatically.

“ _Disbanding_ the order,” Cullen narrowed his eyes at the ground and let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you realize what you have _done_? How can you simply deconstruct an organization built on _years_ of tradition and history?! Now we...”

While the shems were discussing the faults of his decision, U’Din just stared at the ground, wide-eyed. His face was, fortunately, covered by his hair, but if they saw it... the shems would have stopped talking.

Because U’Din was angry. _Very_ angry.

 _What_ did they say? It was not _his_ call? Then why the fuck did they have _him_ go to Therinfal in the first place?! Had they been so complacent that they did not plan for a worst case scenario? U’Din faced a fucking _demon_ who made him go through hell! He almost _died_ that day. _Sera_ almost died that day. His companions: exhausted, injured. The templars: stricken by betrayal and shame! And they _dare_ complain about his decision? When _they_ weren’t the ones who suffered?! He tried so _hard_. So, so hard!

Oh, U’Din was angry. Very, _very_ angry. So angry that his shoulders were shaking, his jaw clenching, and his breathing deepening. But it wasn’t until his vision blurred did he realize that he wasn’t just angry. He gasped when a tear fell to the floor.

Oh, _no._

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the three advisors. Were they so busy arguing over what cannot be changed that they would ignore the Herald of Andras—

She turned to him and saw him slightly shaking, head bowed low. Her brows furrowed in concern. “Herald? Herald are you all right?”

Her query drew the attention of the three advisors, and they stopped arguing just to look at him. U’Din was quiet, except for his deep breathing.

Cassandra walked up to him and tried to see his face. “U’Din, what’s wrong? The missive explained that you were wounded. Are you in pain? If so, we can always—“

She paused when she bent low enough to see through his bangs and saw something in the Herald’s eyes. Stunned, she took a step back. The Seeker was hesitant when she spoke, “Herald?”

“...I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now.” He said, and though he tried to mask it, everyone could hear the despair in his voice. He hiccupped and started walking out of the Chantry. “I’ll be back later. I—I need some fresh air.”

“Herald? Herald!!”

He quickly pushed open the doors and closed them behind him, keeping his head low to avoid people seeing his face. The Inquisition scouts greeted him, but he just nodded at them. He paused when he heard Varric calling him.

“Hey, Willow!” The dwarf stopped jogging when he reached the elf. “You thought you were going to get away, huh? I realize that you don’t care much for card games, but Wicked Grace is—“

When U’Din turned to look at him, Varric couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. The pained face damp with flowing tears—it just made the dwarf’s heart shatter. He asked, “H-Hey, Willow. What’s wrong? You’re—“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Varric.” U’Din rubbed at his eyes and started walking away. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll—I’ll visit you later!”

“Willow! What’s wrong?! _Willow_!”

U’Din ignored the dwarf’s calls and brisk-walked towards the place where he knew he could calm down. His chest felt so heavy, and he could feel the blood seeping through his clothes. He needed someone to calm him. Someone to ease the pain, even a little bit. Someone who would _understand_ him.

He knocked on the door many times. _Hard_. He kept his head low as the door opened, revealing Solas who had just removed his armor. He looked at U’Din in confusion.

“U’Din? Is the meeting over?” The mage asked. When he received no reply, he added, “That’s probably for the best. I was going to ask if you— _U’Din_?”

The blond walked past him, and he stood in the middle of the small hut. He tried to keep his breathing even, but when Solas closed the door he couldn’t help but let out a small whimper. He quickly covered his mouth, but to his dismay he couldn’t stop his shoulders from convulsing.

Solas approached him worriedly. “Da’len, what’s wrong? You are in pain, aren’t you? You have blood on your shirt—I should have known. Quick, take off your shirt and let me see—“

“ _Hahren_.” U’Din whispered, loud enough for Solas to hear. The defeated tone in his voice made Solas pause, but what followed soon after shocked him even more, “ _Hahren, m-ma halani._ Please _help me_. _I can’t take it, I can’t_ —“

“ _Ma atisha. Calm yourself, U’Din._ ” He spoke to him softly in Elvish, standing in front of the blond elf. He tried to peek at the younger elf’s face, but U’Din refused to look up. _“U’Din, what is wrong? Did something happen in the meeting? Are you—_ “

“ _Din—Din’emaronun. Not fair. It’s not_ fair _!_ ”

“ _What is not fair?_ ” Solas asked. Then he was startled when U’Din grabbed his shoulders, but quickly let go when he fell on his knees. The older elf looked at the shaking blond, unsure what to do. “U-U’Din?”

U’Din fought it. He fought the heavy pain building up in his chest, trying to come out his mouth. But he refused. He _refused_ to let it out. It was bad enough that the tears came out. He wasn’t... He wasn’t going to do it! He hadn’t done it since Ellana stopped being his friend. Or when Mahanon had... he pinched the skin on his hand to keep him from going there.

No, no, _no_ , he wasn’t going to do it! He refused! Not in front of Solas. _Especially_ in front of Solas! But... But it was bubbling in his chest, threatening to come out—

U’Din felt his hair being pushed away, and he looked up to see Solas kneeling in front of him. He looked troubled.

“U’Din,” The hedge mage’s voice was soft, soothing. “What’s not fair?”

His resolve broke. He _cried_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. Ha. Sorry. I can't seem to give U'Din a break. If you want to kidnap him, do so now while he and Solas aren't together yet :P Let's see you guys try to take him away from an overpowered mage lol
> 
> But yeah. The templars were conscripted, but the advisors didn't seem to like that. The one thing I /hated/ about the advisors was that they don't seem to run out of things to complain no matter what you do. They still complain even if you DID invite the templars as allies. :))) Don't get me wrong, though! I love the advisors dearly, so don't try to assume I'm trying to bash them here or anything. I just wrote them the way they would have acted without the slight dullness of the game. Again, **I DO NOT HATE THEM**. So don't be angry pls ;___;
> 
> Anyways, you guys got a really nice SoMLavellan scene there xD But it was full of crying and stuff. Oh well. :)) Beggars can't be choosers. 
> 
> I got most of the Elvhen words from Fenxshiral's lexicon, but some of the phrases I needed weren't there. So using what limited linguistic knowledge I have (which is taking one class lol), I decided to compose some of the sentences myself. Sorry if they don't make sense though. At least I tried :))
> 
> Ma Halani - You + Help [me]. "Help me."  
> Ma Atisha - You + Calmness, Peace. "Calm yourself."  
> Din'emaronun - Not + Fairness/Equality. "Not fair."
> 
> The notes are longer than the fic OTL sorry about that! Anyways! See you guys in two weeks! I'll miss this fic all the time but I must concentrate on finals :))) Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and leave me comments and kudos. I always look forward to feedback because it motivates me :)) Hope you guys have a wonderful day!
> 
> Edit (July 25, 2016): I replaced "Elvhen" with "Elvish" in reference to the language.


	15. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is SUPER cheesy. Aaaand some people might interpret the characters here as acting OOC. Ugh I tried my best but yeah, a little warning just in case! Also, this chapter is once again, super long. :)) I think I write longer if there are intense emotions involved HUHUHU.
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Will correct any mistakes later on. :)

_U’Din was three years old when the Keeper allowed him outside the tent. He remembered peeking through the flap, then gasping when he saw_ so many people _. He always heard voices, of course, but he never saw so many of them! The Keeper chuckled at him and urged him out of the tent. He gripped on her robe as he followed her around the camp, hiding when appropriate._

_And now she left him all alone. What was he going to do?!_

_He was about to turn around to go back to the tent when someone called out to him._

_“Hey! I’ve never seen you around before. Are you new?”_

_It was a girl with red hair and pale skin, and with bright green eyes. She looked... nice? She sounded nice too. U’Din shook his head, hair swaying. “N-No, I’m not. I’ve never been outside before. The Keeper kept me inside her tent.”_

_“Oh so you’re_ that _boy. It’s nice to finally meet you!” The girl smiled at him. She waved, “I’m Ellana! What’s your name?”_

_“U... U’Din.” He introduced himself shyly. He bowed a bit. “N-Nice to meet you, too.”_

_“U’Din? That’s a weird name!” The girl giggled a bit. But when the blond child frowned, she stopped laughing and said, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. But I think your name is cute! Like you!”_

_He sputtered, “Wh-What? I’m not cute!_ You’re _cute!”_

 _“Nuh-uh, I’m_ pretty _! There’s a difference!” She laughed. Her eyes lit up and she suddenly reached out to grab his wrist. “Hey! I forgot I was playing with my friends! Do you wanna join? We’re playing Wolf Chases Halla! You can be the _Dread Wolf_!”_

_He smiled at the thought, but then faltered. He shuffled his feet against the grass and told her that he didn’t want to trouble her and her friends. She shook her head and started pulling him, making him squeak._

_“Nah, it’s okay! We can be friends too, if you want!”_

_U’Din’s eyes went wide. “R-Really?”_

_“Yeah!” She grinned. “We can be really_ great _friends!”_

_And that was how U’Din made his first friend. Before he lost her._

 

* * *

 

Varric would like to think that he was as irresponsible as the next guy, but deep inside he knew that that was a load of bull. Whether he liked it or not, he had a _heart_ —a beating, honest to goodness heart, and a moral obligation to fix the damn world before it crumbles in front of him. He was just that kind of guy.

So when he saw Willow’s face, damp and contorted in despair, he knew he had to do something about it—no, he _wanted_ to. The guy was a rare breed of pure, kind, and modest, and Varric hated to see him in so much pain. It was bad enough that the guy was plunged into a world of madness without his consent; he didn’t _have_ to suffer more than he needed to.

But before he could try to do something for Willow, he first had to get a bit of info. The guy came out of the Chantry in tears, so he knew that the Seeker and the other humans probably said something to scare him. Since it was most likely related to the mission at Therinfal, Varric knew he had to get information on _that_ before marching up to the humans.

He entered the tavern and smiled at the barmaid, and then looked around for a certain elven archer. He eventually found her stuffing her face at a table, and he quickly sat next to her.

“Hey, Buttercup!” The dwarf greeted.

Sera turned to him with her cheeks fat with chewed food. She didn’t bother swallowing before greeting back, “W’oh, hey Vawick! Wussup?”

Varric dodged the small food projectiles that came out of her mouth. He waved a hand, “Swallow that food in your mouth, Buttercup. I got something to ask you.”

Sera blinked, then she swallowed everything in one gulp. She set her utensils down and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “Oh, yeah? That so?”

“Yeah. Normally I’d go beat around the bush and mention a few unrelated things to set the pace but,” The redhead dwarf paused, “I’d like to ask about Therinfal, if you don’t mind.”

“Huh? Wussat?” The blond looked confused for a moment. Then her eyes lit up in realization. “Oh _that_ place. Right. Eugh, creepy, demony place. With creepy templars and shite. Blew them all up with my arrows and bombs; heh, served them right.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” The dwarf retorted. Then he cleared his throat, “So, did anything _special_ happen? Like, I dunno, concerning a certain, droopy-haired elf with a glowing hand?”

“Droopy?” Sera asked. Then her eyes narrowed, and she went back to her food. She wasn’t eating it though, just playing with the little chunks of meat on her plate.

“Yeah. And by your reaction I could tell that something _did_ happen.” Varric said tiredly, shaking his head. The poor guy never could catch a break, could he? “So what was it? Did he accidentally blow something up? Break an expensive vase? Forget to call a noble _my lordliness_?”

“Huh? What are you saying?” The girl raised an eyebrow at him. “Droopy didn’t do anything like that.”

Varric blinked. “Willow didn’t cause an accident then? Something that could have offended Curly and the rest?”

“No, he did good. _Very_ good. He _did_ do a bit of magic shite to me. And he _did_ —“ She cut herself off at that point and shook her head, “I mean. Yeah. He did good. _Great_. And he was humble about it and everything. Didn’t we send a message about what we did ahead of time? I drew stuff and everything!”

Oh yeah, Varric remembered _that_ letter. Willow kept apologizing for Sera’s doodles, and the archer drew what he assumed was a headless monster thing. Probably the demon they fought.

Varric sighed; if Willow didn’t do anything wrong, what happened at the Chantry?

His silence made Sera eye the dwarf suspiciously and ask, “Why? Did something happen to Droopy? Or. Something? You wouldn’t be asking if nothing happened to him.”

“Well, you can say that.” The dwarf began. He briefly thought about whether to tell the girl about what he saw, and he was about to leave it there when he saw the little glare on her face. He sighed and said, “Okay, fine. I saw Willow coming out of the Chantry. Crying.”

“ _What_?” The blond drew back, shocked. Then she looked confused, upset, “Why would Droopy cry? Did—Did they say mean things to him? But Droopy did good back there! Why would they make him cry?!”

“I don’t really know the details, but I know what I saw.” Varric said. Then, he remembered seeing blood on the guy’s shirt and frowned, “And come to think of it, the guy is injured, isn’t he?”

Sera shuffled uncomfortably and looked away. “Y-Yeah. He is. The demon... The demon got him. And stuff.” She said, sounding more affected than she should have been. Varric reminded himself to get the story behind _that_ someday.

“On his chest, right?” He asked. When Sera nodded stiffly, he added, “So I probably wasn’t imagining it. I saw blood on his shirt; he probably opened the wound or something.”

“You’re joking!” The blond exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t joke about stuff like this, Buttercup.” Varric said. Then he frowned at the table and paused, “Oh wait. I would. But this is Willow. He’s a special snowflake. So when I said that I saw his shirt all bloody, you can be sure I was telling the truth.”

Sera surprised him by banging her palms on the table and standing up. She pushed the chair away and started walking out of the tavern, muttering obscenities under her breath. Varric quickly stood up and followed her.

“Hey! _Buttercup_!” The dwarf called out, catching up to the stomping blond. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you so angry?”

“Piss balls. Friggin’ _turd_ bucket!” She cursed. “I told him to take a nap and what does he do? Goes to the Chantry and gets himself hurt! Oh look at _me_ , lalala, _I need to do this, I’ll rest later_ —shite! Now he’s bleeding again and hurting and— _argghh_!”

“Sera, words are used to make _sense_ , not confuse people even more.” Varric teased her lightly, if only to gauge her reaction.

“Frig with words! They obviously _did_ something to Droopy. And I’m gonna find out what!”

“Ha, you know, I’m real happy that you’re suddenly all protective of Willow, and really, I _am_.” The dwarf told her. “But what’s this all about?”

Sera didn’t answer him. She just started mumbling about how guys like Willow didn’t deserve to cry, _not after what he did_. Also about stupid biggies being bullies. The Chantry came into view, and the dwarf’s eyes widened. He looked up at the seething blond.

“H-Hold on a minute, Buttercup! Don’t tell me you’re _actually_ going in there?”

“Why not? I wanna find out what they did to Droopy! Then I’ll tell them what he friggin’ did. _Everything_!” Sera said. The angry look on her eyes momentarily faded and turned into something much more sad, more guilty. She clenched her fists.

 _‘Stupid Droopy.’_ She thought to herself angrily, pushing the Chantry doors. _‘Being all nice and shite.’_

 

* * *

 

“I’ll be back later. I—I need some fresh air.”

“Herald? Herald!!” Cassandra called out, but it was too late. U’Din had opened and closed the doors behind him. The Seeker turned to the advisors and said, “Was that really necessary?!”

Cullen blinked before glaring at her. “What did _we_ do? We simply wished that the Herald consulted with _us_ first before making any rash decisions. This is the Templar Order we’re talking about! It cannot simply _disband_.”

“You mean what _you_ two did.” Leliana was quick to separate herself from her fellow advisors. “I was trying to be neutral. Instead of focusing on the fact that the templar veterans will be arriving soon, _you_ decided to criticize the Herald.”

“Criticism is important if he wishes to learn!” Cullen defended himself. Then he sighed, “Look, I understand that he has no... experience in leading or making big decisions, but if he’ll just run out like a child every time we tell him what he did wrong—”

“And what _did_ he do wrong, my dear?”

The four of them turned to see Vivienne approaching their group. Cassandra acknowledged her. “First Enchanter Vivienne. We are a bit busy here, if you don’t mind.”

“I can see that, darling.” Vivienne replied sweetly. She turned to where U’Din disappeared before looking back at the advisors, a delicate eyebrow raised. “Yes, busy. Busy _harassing_ the poor dear. Right after he just got back from what was presumably a distressful mission, as well.”

“It’s none of your _concern_ , First Enchanter.” Cassandra replied a little evenly. “And we did not _harass_ him.”

“Ah, yes, not harassment. You marching over and criticizing him without even giving him the opportunity to defend himself. Poor dear. I can see why he’s so anxious.”

“What do you mean?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest impatiently.

“ _Oh_ , really,” Vivienne looked just about _done_. She gave them a look. “Personally, I _also_ would have preferred the templars to be free allies, but our dear Herald made a decision when one was needed. And _we_ weren’t there. You should be thankful he even managed to save _half_ of the templars he did. That, in itself, was a miraculous feat worthy of praise.”

“No one was _disapproving_ his decision.” She heard a grunt from behind her, and she huffed, “Fine. _I_ did not disapprove of his decision.”

“Of course you didn’t, dear.” Vivienne said, response vague and sweet, similar to how Orlesian nobles speak. It made Cullen’s temper rise.

“With all due respect, First Enchanter, we cannot _coddle_ him.” Cullen said in his defense. “We may have to be a bit more sensitive around him, considering his personality, but my opinion still stands. He should have—“

“My dear Commander that is not my _point_ ,” Vivienne cut him, tone becoming firm, accompanied by a tiny bit of impatience. “I did not wish to spend a fraction of my _important_ time to tell you something so meaningless. Of _course_ you cannot coddle him, and of course you can have an opinion and freely express it.”

“Well, what _is_ your point?” Cullen asked, growing impatient as well.

“My point is you should have shown him a bit of _compassion_.” She replied. Then she turned her head, brows furrowing and eyes clouded. Like she was stuck in a memory. “The man just went head to head with a _demon_. A rare one. _Without_ prior preparation. I cannot even imagine what the poor dear went through. You knew this, and yet you insensitively chose to distress him even further.”

The stunned looks on their faces made her sigh. She was about to point out how _ridiculous_ they looked when the Chantry doors opened and revealed the Inquisition’s best ranged fighters. The blond elf made her scrunch her nose a bit. “Oh dear, what now?”

“Hey! I got a bone to pick with you lot!” Sera marched over to them, Varric sighing behind her. She placed her hands on her hips once she reached them. “What did you do to Droopy? The tit’s a mess!”

Varric sighed beside her. Wow, she was _really_ into this. She didn’t even bother to confirm whether what the dwarf said was true or not. Instead, she decided to just _waltz_ in and confront the most powerful members of the Inquisition. All because of U’Din becoming upset. He wondered what U’Din had done to make her act this way; she didn’t seem to care much about him before.

“ _Sera_. What are you talking about?” Cassandra asked, glaring at her. “And what are you doing just stomping in here like that?”

“Droopy didn’t do anything wrong, okay? He did his best!” Sera chose to ignore her questions an decided to get to the point. She looked pained for a moment. “You—You don’t know what he went through, you know? That friggin’ demon messed up with his head and stuff! And he ran around trying to protect all the shitty templars from _other_ shitty templars! Then—Then he got himself hurt, fighting that demon. We got the templars, didn’t we? Wasn’t that what you all wanted?”

“Sera, please calm yourself.” Josephine answered diplomatically before any of her fellow advisors could reply in a much less calm manner. “We are fully aware of what the Herald had gone through, and we _do_ appreciate all his hard work. We only wished he hadn’t acted on his own—“

“You turds weren’t _there_. You weren’t!” Sera cut her off, gesturing empathically. “But _I_ was. Bull, Baldy and I were there! We saw what he did. We saw how hard he worked to keep people alive. Even after facing that friggin’ demon! Normal people wouldn’t want to go through any of that. But he did. Because _you_ told him to!”

“Hey, hey, Buttercup, settle down.” Varric pushed her back when it looked like she was going to tackle one of them to the ground. He turned back and gave the advisors a look. “You know, Buttercup _kinda_ has a point. Willow got you the templars. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“This is _not_ your concern, Varric.” The Seeker informed him evenly, glaring down at the dwarf. She glared at the three of them. “This is not _any_ of your concern, all of you. I... _appreciate_ you trying to defend the Herald, and normally I would approve, but this is Inquisition matters. The advisors simply wished—“

Leliana cleared her throat. Cassandra sighed angrily.

“Commander Cullen and Ambassador Montilyet simply wished that he had _informed_ the Inquisition before making a decision. The templar order was _disbanded_ because of his choice. That would make a great impact on the World. We simply wished to inform him that drastic decisions like that have consequences.”

Vivienne hummed, “That’s not what I heard, dear.”

“If you have something to _say_ , First Enchanter,” The Seeker began warningly. “I _humbly_ ask that you say it now.”  

“I have neither the time nor the patience to indulge you, my dear.” Vivienne replied pleasantly. She waved a hand in dismissal walking back to her desk. Her new coat, made by the dear Herald, swayed behind her, “If you wish to make the poor dear’s life difficult, so be it. That is, as you said, not my concern. Just don’t do it where I can hear you, hm?”

Sera growled and stomped out of the Chantry, muttering about how _stupid_ everyone was, especially U’Din because he didn’t take a nap like she said. She was yelling something about _self-sacrificing idiots_ and going around killing rams to calm her down when she pushed the doors open, not even bothering to close them behind her.

Varric watched her leave and shook his head. He turned to the humans. “Look, I know you guys meant well, but you _have_ to give him a break every now and then. The guy was probably never part of something this big, this important. He’s anxious enough as it is, and if you keep treating him like some errand boy, the stress will eventually kill him. _Literally_.”

“He is _not_ to be coddled, Varric. And he is _not_ an errand boy.” Cassandra said, crossing her arms over her chest. “He is the Herald of Andraste, the only one who can possibly seal the Breach. That alone should tell him how important his decisions would be, and he should understand the consequences—“

“Willow’s not _dumb_ , Seeker. If I know him well enough, I’m pretty sure he thought _real_ hard before making any decisions at Therinfal.” Varric cut her off, voice quiet. “I’m not saying you’re not allowed to lecture him or anything because the guy has a _lot_ to learn still, but cut him some slack, will ya? Or try not to upset him so much his wounds open and his chest bleeds.”

“His—His wounds _opened_?” Cassandra asked, shocked and maybe a little horrified. “Are you saying he hasn’t healed himself?”

“But that was a few days ago. Didn’t they have potions with them?” Cullen asked his fellow advisors, honestly confused about what they found out.

“The demon’s attack was probably more serious than they made us believe.” Leliana said gravely. “The Herald wrote the message. Knowing him, he probably didn’t mention the severity of his wounds on purpose.”

“Of all the—“ Cullen scratched the back of his head, frustrated.

“Where is the Herald now, Master Tethras?” Josephine asked, voice laced with concern. “We should have a healer look at him. Wounds like that should be addressed immediately.”

“I’m guessing he’s with Chuckles.” The dwarf said. “Or, hiding in a tree again. But my money’s on Chuckles.”

“You mean Solas?” Leliana asked. She sounded quizzical. “Why would the Herald approach him? Are they close?”

“They share a camaraderie. I’ve... noticed since the beginning. I don’t doubt that the Herald is currently with him.” Cassandra answered. Then, she sighed, “Maker, this is tiresome. We should fix this.”

“Honestly, I think you should leave him alone for now. Let Willow calm down. And _you_ should all try to do the same, probably.” Varric suggested. “I’m guessing you’re all just at the height of your emotions. Talking it out later when you don’t wanna strangle each other might help.”

“You’re—You’re _right_.” Cullen conceded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and sighed, “I—I did not mean to lose my temper a while ago or take it out on him. It’s just—the _order_ had so much history. And it’s been around for _ages_. But now it’s gone. Just like that.”

“The Herald _did_ promise the templars they can rebuild the order once this is all done.” Leliana said. “Perhaps he felt that having them as our knights would benefit _them_ as well, not just us.”

“True. If _I_ know U’Din well enough,” Cassandra paused to think, remembering all the times the blond unconditionally helped others—even those who sneered at him and called him a false prophet. She sighed. “He would think of others before himself.”

Cullen pursed his lips, looking uncomfortable. “Perhaps we... came on a little too strong.” His eyes met Leliana’s, and he sighed when she gave him a look. “All right, _I_ came on too strong. I’ll... apologize later. After we discuss what to do with the templar veterans arriving in a few days.”

“Yes. And also while we’re at it, we could also talk about how to bring up... _that_.” The Spymaster said. It took a moment for the advisors to figure out what she was referring to; Leliana inclined her head to Josephine’s study where a certain parcel was waiting to be delivered to its recipient.

“His Keeper’s parcel.” Cullen frowned and sighed. “Maker, why do I get the feeling he’s not going to take this very well?”

“When does he ever take anything well?” Cassandra asked, though her tone wasn’t scathing.

“Keeper? You contacted his _Keeper_?” Varric asked. The Seeker actually forgot all about him for a moment, and she glared at him lightly in warning.

“Do _not_ mention anything to him, understand? We will be the ones to inform him.”

“Wait, wait, _wait_ ,” Varric raised his hands in front of him and gave her a look. “Are you saying that you tried to find his clan and contact his Keeper... behind his _back_?”

“We... have yet to inform him, yes.” Cassandra admitted. She exchanged a look with the advisors. “We observed him and noticed that his attitude is worrisome. He is too anxious, too meek. Also, he does not speak his mind because he thinks his opinions don’t matter. We simply wanted to find out how to get him to trust us.”

“And you thought the best way to get him to trust you was to investigate him, find his clan and contact his Keeper. _Without_ telling him.”

“...Yes.” The Seeker looked a bit regretful at that.

Varric made a frustrated noise and scratched his head. “ _Shit_. You do realize the guy’s probably gonna freak out when he finds out what you did, right?”

“We are aware, Master Tethras.” Josephine said quietly. She sighed. “We simply wanted information. We did not expect his clan to be so... unwelcoming.”

“What?”

“His Keeper wasn’t very... happy when we sent scouts to attempt contact.” Leliana answered after a moment of contemplative silence. “We only wanted to reassure them that he is safe, and in doing so, we might win the Herald’s favor. But we were met with a bit of hostility. Letting our scouts leave peacefully was simply an act of mercy on the Keeper’s part.”

“With the way he acts, I was under the assumption that he was unappreciated in his clan. Possibly abused, even.” Josephine admitted, frowning. “But after reading the letter his Keeper addressed to Leliana, it appears that it’s the exact opposite. She even accused us of harboring the Herald against his will.”

“Which _is_ kinda true, if you think about it.” Varric replied unhelpfully.

“ _Dwarf_.”

“Hey, I was just saying.”

“She also addressed a letter to him and sent him a few things. Clothes, some strange salves, a _staff_. And quite a bit of materials.” Leliana added, looking at her fellow advisors.

“Definitely _not_ unappreciated, then.” Cullen said.

“Please tell me you didn’t read the letter.” Varric practically begged. He was pretty sure they weren’t stupid enough to attempt that, but they _did_ contact the guy’s clan without him knowing.

“I couldn’t even if I tried. It’s in a different language. Presumably Elvhen.” Leliana said. “None of my elven scouts know how to read the language. I thought about asking Solas if he knew, but I don’t intend to read it.”

“I’m pretty sure Chuckles wouldn’t help you even if you asked. Especially about something so personal.”

“So what do we do?” Cullen asked. “Do we tell him about his clan first? Or about the events at Therinfal?”

“Probably Therinfal. Assuming we don’t mess up and upset him even further about that.” Leliana answered, frowning. She sighed and gestured towards the War Room. “In any case, let’s discuss the arrival of the templar veterans first. And what we’re going to do about the rest of the order.”

“Agreed. They would need accommodations, training areas.” Cullen said as they all went towards the War Room.

“Why are _you_ following us?” Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow at Varric.

He shrugged. “Hey, I know Willow better than the rest of you. I can give you a bit of advice on how to approach him. Or at least not make him cry again.”

“We made him _cry_? Are you serious?” Cullen asked, stunned. He ignored Leliana muttering “ _you_ did.”

“Hey, don’t go insulting him now or anything. Poor guy went through a lot.” Varric was quick to come to U’Din’s defense. “He probably kept it all bubbled up inside him. I’m surprised he lasted this long, actually.”

“Sweet Maker.”

“Your help would be appreciated, Master Tethras.” Josephine nodded at him. “Anything to make the Herald more comfortable around us.”

Cassandra made a disgruntled noise at that, not particularly happy spending time with Varric in an enclosed space. But she let him enter the War Room peacefully. Well, as peacefully as the Seeker could manage when it involved _him_ , anyway.

Varric just sighed and shook his head. The things he did for friends.

 

* * *

 

U’Din rubbed at his eyes, feeling utterly ashamed and upset with himself. He looked up and watched as Solas poured water into a tankard across the room, most likely for him. The older elf also seemed to be putting some supplies in a little basket. Whatever they were. U’Din was too bothered with himself to really care. He clenched his fists.

He made such a fool of himself. Running out the Chantry, sobbing like a child. Then breaking down in front of Solas. He was so _stupid_. But... he was just so tired. So, so _tired_. He tried to do his best at Therinfal, he really did, so when the shems seemed unhappy with his choices, he felt so crushed. After _all_ he went through, after everything he did, he was still a failure. Tears started falling down his cheeks again, and he wiped them away angrily.

He felt the bed dip and moan, and he turned to see Solas sitting beside him. The man offered him the tankard, and he shakily accepted it. He nodded meekly, “T-Thank you. And. Sorry about this. About, um, earlier.”

Solas gave him a small, kind smile and said, “It’s all right, U’Din. You were... distressed. I am not so cruel as to turn you away when you are in need of support.”

The blond made sad little noises at the back of his throat. He drank a bit of water and sighed, “Still, I didn’t mean to break down like that. Or even bother you. I just—I dunno.”

“It’s perfectly fine, U’Din. You needn’t worry.” Solas reassured him. He placed the small basket on his lap, and now U’Din found out that the man had collected bandages and little pots full of clear paste. Salves, perhaps? “I should apologize, myself. It’s been a long time since I attempted to comfort someone, so my methods were... direct.”

U’Din’s mind replayed the events that happened just minutes ago. He had broken down, cried about unfairness, futility. Failure. He also cried about _crying_ , apologizing for being so weak that he succumbed to despair. He had cried so much that his chest heaved, opening his most recent wound even further. The blond wondered just how long he had kept everything bottled up inside; had he really been _that_ upset about everything?

And then Solas did the unexpected: he... _hugged_ U’Din.

The blond had been so shocked he stopped crying for a few moments. He was so stunned that Solas whispered to him so soothingly, reassuring him and telling him that _it was okay_. That... wasn’t what he expected to receive from Solas at all. A pat on the back, sure. A gentle, but firm lecture? He counted on it. But a warm embrace? Words of comfort? Solas would actually _do_ that for him?

The thought had him crying again, and he hugged the man back and sobbed on his shoulder. He was ashamed of having to bother Solas, but he was just so _exhausted_. The circular rubs on his backs helped him a lot, and Solas hushed him gently whenever he apologized for being such a bother and a weakling.

And now, U’Din was on Solas’ bed, drinking from his tankard and more or less still crying. He bit his lip; oh, he hated himself _so much_. Why couldn’t he have just died back at the Conclave? That way no one would have to see him be so weak. He turned to Solas who was mixing some salves, but something on the man’s shirt made him pause. He gasped.

Oh _no_ , he got blood all over him!

“H-Hahren. Your shirt.” The blond pointed at the man’s blood-soaked tunic.

Solas looked down, and he raised his eyebrows at the amount of blood on his shirt. It seemed like he just noticed. But he just shrugged and went back to mixing salves in the little clay pots. “It is of no concern. I can change later.”

U’Din frowned, playing with his fingers worriedly. “But won’t it stain? You should probably have it washed.”

The man paused for a moment, as if contemplating on something. Then he turned to U’Din with a seemingly innocent smile. “Why? Are you that eager to see me take off my shirt?”

U’Din couldn’t help but blush. He sputtered and turned away, yelping when he almost dropped the tankard. He settled it on his lap and looked away, muttering angrily about stupid bald elves and _was that really necessary_?!

Solas chuckled— _hmhmhm_ —and finished his mixture. He gestured towards the bed, giving U’Din a more serious look. “I know you’re still upset, and I _would_ like to know what happened, but we can’t leave your wound unattended for too long. We’ll have to take care of it first before we talk. Please take off your shirt and lie down.”

The blond had been taking a drink when Solas spoke, and he almost choked at the man’s gentle command. He looked at the man incredulously. “W-What?”

The older elf gave him a look. “Do you wish for _me_ to take it off for you, then?”

U’Din shook his head frantically and started removing his cravat. He struggled a bit, not really sure how the thing worked. Shem fashion was so strange. Once he managed to take it off, he placed his satchel on the ground and slowly got out of his shirt. He hissed a bit when the fabric brushed against his chest, but he kept at it. After taking off his top, he discarded the bloodied shirt on the ground. He stiffened when Solas gently pushed him down.

“U-Um?” He struggled, not really sure why he felt so panicky.

“It would be easier to apply the salve if you are on your back.” He explained briefly, looming over U’Din to inspect the blood-soaked bandage. He frowned before retrieving a small knife to cut them off.

His eye twitched upon seeing the state of U’Din’s wounds. Three long claw marks marred his skin, and the old bruises and injuries that apparently never healed only added his sympathy for the blond. Earlier questions about his strange condition came up again, and he took the opportunity to finally obtain better answers.

“You say this is a _sickness_.” He said, pertaining to his old wounds. He frowned concernedly. “Are you afflicted by some sort of blight? Wounds that never heal are usually the result of a curse, or dark magic.”

“I’m... not sure.” U’Din responded, not looking at Solas in the eye. To be honest, he didn’t want to talk about it. When he told Solas before that the wound on his left arm had been there for as long as he could remember, he didn’t _actually_ tell the truth. He remembered _exactly_ how he got it, like he did the rest of the persisting wounds on his body. The scar on his neck was the only exception; he _really_ didn’t know where that came from.

His silence didn’t go unnoticed, and Solas gave him a stern look. “U’Din, you are clearly not telling me something. I cannot help you if you keep secrets. Did your Keeper not notice this about you? Or did she simply not care?”

U’Din looked up at him incredulously. “O-Of course she did! I mean,” He paused, to look down at his wounds. He sighed and turned his head away. “Of course she noticed. She’s not dumb. And it’s not like she couldn’t see the bandages; my arms are bare when it’s not winter.”

When Solas gave him a look, he sighed in defeat. “Okay. _Fine_. I... lied when I said that these wounds were there for as long as I could remember, except for this scar on my neck. I remember exactly how I got them.

“The first wound I got was on my right shoulder. Weeks passed, and I still had to keep it bandaged because it wouldn’t stop bleeding. That was the first time I noticed that something had to be wrong with me. The Keeper eventually noticed too and asked to look at it. Ever since then, she told me to stay at the camp all the time so I wouldn’t get hurt anymore.”

“But clearly you incurred more wounds thereafter.” Solas brought up, looking at his arms, right hand and midriff.

“Y-Yeah. She got really angry whenever I had new wounds to cover up.” U’Din said quietly, smiling bitterly at the memory a little bit.

“They _are_ quite troublesome to take care of, aren’t they?”

U’Din sighed. “You can say that again.”

After Solas was done, he said they had to wait for the salve to settle on his skin before bandaging him up again. The hedge mage looked at the other bandages on his arms and asked, “While we’re at it, do you want to change the dressing on your other wounds?”

The blond shook his head. “N-No, that’s okay. The bandages are new. I’ll change them myself tonight, thank you.”

“Very well.” Solas conceded as he wiped his hands with a small towel. “Now, while we wait, let’s take a look at your mark. In all the excitement fighting that demon, we forgot that you used your left hand that day.”

U’Din looked at his gauntlet and nodded. “Okay.”

After Solas gently removed the gauntlet, what they saw both shocked them: little green shards peeked out on random areas on his swollen veins, lightly glowing eerily in tune with his heartbeat. U’Din blanched; he didn’t even remember that happening at all!

Solas cursed and immediately poured his magic onto the veins. While the veins shrunk, the shards didn’t seem like they were going anywhere. He tsked. Experimentally, Solas poked at one, and the sensation made U’Din hiss.

“Ooh, _fuck_ , that stung!” The blond breathed, tearing up a bit. He looked at his arm. “W-What happened? I didn’t feel it change at all!”

“This is what I feared.” The man said gravely, looking at his arm closely. He pointed at the small shards that protruded out of his flesh. “See these? These are still your veins. Parts of them have... solidified. I once thought that your mark would become so aggravated that it would try to break the skin, but I never expected it to actually _happen_. This is very alarming.”

“W-Why is it doing that?” U’Din asked a bit fearfully. “Was it because I used the spirit sword in my mind? But I had to— _shit_ , I messed up again—“

“U’Din, _desist_.” Solas cut him off sternly, discouraging him from continuing. He squinted at his arm, seemingly fixated on the small shards. He made an attempt to touch one of them again, but stopped himself at the last minute. He looked troubled, confused. _Curious_.

The blond frowned up at him. “Hahren? What’s wrong? You went quiet.”

“...It’s nothing. I just thought—“ He cut himself off, breathing deeply before smiling thinly down at the blond. “Never mind. For the moment, everything I’m considering is simply pure speculation. I need to observe the mark more to be able to determine its status. I have to ask that you start visiting me every day starting immediately, U’Din.”

“...Okay.” The blond agreed quietly. Then he asked, “Will you... tell the shems about it?”

“What do you think, U’Din?”

The blond made a small noise at that, looking at the mark. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to the shems badgering him about _this_ next, but from the look on Solas’ face, he knew that it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. Or even change at all. Whether he liked it or not, the shems _had_ to know. He thought about all the times that it changed, and Solas said that his magic had something to do with it. Which wasn’t very hard to believe, but—

His eyes shifted towards the satchel he set on the ground and he gulped. He... hadn’t told Solas about what happened in the Storm Coast yet. He had used his ocarina that time, and for some reason his mark transformed again because of him playing it. Not to mention, he was still bothered by that strange magic that came out of the dead Envy demon. And by what Cole said about it.

_“It just went to look for a new place to live. That’s all.”_

He bit his lip, trying not to think about the implications of what Cole said. _A new place to live._ Did the spirit mean... what he _thought_ he meant? He thought about his mother’s instrument and _sincerely_ hoped not.

He heard a soft click, and he looked to see that Solas had reattached his gauntlet. The man rolled out a bandage and made a gesture with his head. “The salves should have set already. Sit up so I could wrap these around you.”

U’Din stammered, “O-Oh, you don’t have to! I can do it myself. I troubled you enough as it is—“

“U’Din.” Solas cut him off. He gave him a look and stretched the bandage in his hands, making a crisp _snap_ sound. “Sit up.”

The blond bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, sitting up. “ _Fine_.”

They spent a few minutes sitting on the bed, the only sound heard was U’Din’s small grunts (“Too much?”, “Y-Yeah.”) and the stretching of gauze. After Solas was done, U’Din inspected the older elf’s work and smiled gratefully at the man.

“T-Thanks, hahren. You didn’t have to but—“

“Now that your wound is taken care of,” Solas stood up, putting the supplies back in the basket and setting them down on his desk. “We can now talk about what happened. I still want to know what caused you to be so upset.”

U’Din made a face at the reminder. He turned away from Solas and said, “I’m really sorry about that, hahren. I—I didn’t mean to do something so embarrassing but—“

“U’Din, what did I say about apologizing too much?” Solas scolded him lightly, returning to sit beside him on the bed. He looked at U’Din’s back concernedly. “It doesn’t take much to be able to guess, but I would like to get the answers from you. You are the type to... take things harder than most people, but I did not expect you to cry.”

“That’s because I’m a weak failure.”

“ _U’Din._ ”

“What? It’s true!” The blond turned to face back the older elf, face contorting in pain and anguish. “You—You should have heard what they said, hahren! They said that they didn’t like what I did at Therinfal. That—That I shouldn’t have decided so quickly. Disbanding the templars wasn’t _my_ call, they said! They mentioned more things, little things, but they were enough to...” The blond trailed off there when he realized he was tearing up again. He wiped them away, growling in frustration.

What the fuck was wrong with him?! Why was he crying so easily? He—He was really good at hiding it before. But ever since he faced the Envy demon, he found himself much more open about his feelings. Could he still be in shock? Whatever the reason was, he hated it. He didn’t want other people to see him like this; didn’t want to bother them about it. But here he was, doing _exactly_ it. And to Solas, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if Solas secretly resented him for being such a bother.

All the while, the hedge mage was observing him, mouth pressed in a thin line. Seeing the Herald cry and hate himself because of it sent a pang of pain to his chest. He was unsure why, but he knew he was bothered by it.

How did he grow to care about the Dalish and what he did? To this extent, at least? It was... foolish. It could mess up his plans. However—

“U’Din, I am sure that whatever the advisors said, they didn’t say it to attack you personally.” The hedge mage said calmly, placing a hand on the blond’s bare shoulder and squeezing. “Perhaps they simply wished to communicate that they wanted the events of Therinfal to progress... differently.”

“Well, then why the fuck didn’t they tell me _everything_ I had to do from the beginning?! Why did they let _me_ go to Therinfal if they weren’t going to let me make a few choices?!” U’Din yelled, frustrated, hurt, _angry_. His tears fell as he faced Solas. “I’m so fucking _tired_ of doing this shit! It’s bad enough that I have no _fucking_ clue what to do most of the time! The shems—The shems should just do these things themselves instead of letting _me_ mess everything up! Because they _clearly_ know what the best choices are!”

“They could not have predicted that the Lord Seeker was possessed by a demon. You were sent merely to represent the Inquisition.” Solas clarified, trying to be objective. Then he added, “I see your point, U’Din, I really do. I sympathize with you, and, personally, agree with your choices back in Therinfal. However, if the advisors believe that there could have been a better choice—“

“ _Bullshit_! The only reason Commander Cullen didn’t like what I did was because I broke years of _tradition and history_! Fuck that! _Years of tradition and history_ harbored a fucking demon and didn’t even _know_ it!” The blond barked uncharacteristically, taking Solas aback. “And Lady Josephine! What—Why couldn’t she just tell me what the _fuck_ she’s thinking?! She’s always, _diplomatic_ this, _politics_ that! She’s trying to be nice but all she ever did was be vague! I’m so sick and tired of it!

“Lady Leliana—she didn’t say anything. She didn’t say _anything_. I don’t know what she’s thinking at _all_. She’s probably waiting for me to make a mistake! And Lady Cassandra was just—“ U’Din cut himself off to growl angrily. In his rage, lightning clapped in the background.

Solas looked out the window in alarm. He turned back to U’Din and scooted a bit closer to calm him down. “U’Din, control your temper. I know—I know you’re _frustrated_ , but if you give them more reason to belittle, _fear_ you—“

“Do you _know_ what the demon made me see, hahren?!” The blond wheezed, sobbing. “Do you—Do you _know_ what it made me go through? I had to—I had to see things. _Feel_ things. It made me go through hell for what felt like _days_! And then—then the templars were being slaughtered by the red templars! I wasn’t going to let the demon get away with what it did! So I did my best. I did what I _thought_ was best! But it seemed like everything I did was for nothing. Because _they_ don’t like what I did! What the fuck?! I risked my life for absolutely _nothing_ and I got so _angry_ when I realized that!

“I’m so tired, hahren. So, so _fucking_ tired. I hate this. I hate this so much—if I can’t do anything right, if the shems don’t appreciate anything I do, then why the hell am I still here?!” U’Din despaired. “What use am I?! Why the fuck am I here for if I’m useless?! Or if I’m just going to become—become like _that_?!”

“Like what, U’Din?” Solas queried with a confused frown.

“Like—Like that _thing_ the demon wanted to be!” U’Din panicked, voice becoming a pitch higher. He hugged himself. “It—It wanted my face. To _do_ things. It wanted to take charge, make big decisions. _Kill_ people. It showed me scenes where it put everyone in prison as me and everyone _hated_ me for what I did and Cullen was there and he—he called me a murderer and a tyrant and a _butcher_ and—oh fuck, oh fuck it’s happening isn’t it no wonder he’s angry at me I killed people so I _am_ a butcher and I _will_ turn this Inquisition into a butcher’s PIT STOP ME BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE _I REFUSE TO BE A MURDERER_ —“

“U’Din _control yourself_!” Solas surprised him by grasping onto his shoulders and shaking him. He also noticed the air had grown cold around them. “Do _not_ panic! Your magic is reacting to your emotions! Just... calm yourself. Just _breathe_.”

The blond made a helpless, defeated sound and hunched over, body shaking and tears falling. He shook his head as Solas patted him on the back. “I can’t take it anymore, hahren. If I stay here any longer I’m going to mess up. And I might end up becoming like _that_. I don’t want this. I never wanted any of this!”

“U’Din, you’re the only one who can seal the Breach. And we’re so _close_ to doing it; you can’t stop now.” Solas tried to reason with the hyperventilating blond. “You did well. You did _very_ well. What the advisors said could have been misinterpreted. If you talk with them again, calmly this time, I’m sure it would be much better.”

“No, no, they _hate_ me. They hate what I did about the templars! They wanted them as free allies—for reasons I cannot accept, but it’s what _they_ wanted! I should have—I should have done the same thing I did to Mr. Iron Bull!”

“U’Din, there wasn’t time. _You_ had to make a choice.” Solas tried again, more firmly this time. “And it was a logical choice. The templars have no leader; they cannot stand on their own. Under the Inquisition, they will be guided by Cullen who is a more experienced templar. Is that not what you had in mind?”

“Why would they care what I had in mind?! That’s not what _they_ wanted! That obviously mattered to them more than _what was best_. Fucking shems! I try to do my best but they just don’t like what I do! I’m—I’m _afraid_ , hahren. I don’t want to make a mistake and turn into what the demon wanted to be. I don’t—“

“None of it was real. And it won’t be unless _you_ let it be. I told you that, didn’t I?”

Both elves jumped at a loud noise, and they looked in front of them to see a pale young man with an oversized hat crouched on the ground. U’Din recognized the clothes and the _hat_ anywhere.

He blinked his teary eyes. _Cole_?

Solas immediately stood up in front of U’Din and collected magic in his hands, but U’Din grabbed him before he could hurt the newcomer.

“H-Hahren, wait! Don’t hurt him!” U’Din said. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffled. “It’s—It’s _fine_. He’s not going to hurt us.”

“Hello.” The pale spirit stood up properly and inclined his head at both of them. He looked at the ground. “I was going to show myself to you when you walked out of there, but you were busy. And _he_ was helping. Until he wasn’t.”

Solas narrowed his eyes at him, observing him, until he recognized the young man’s aura. He blinked. “You’re—You’re the spirit that’s been following U’Din since Val Royeaux.”

U’Din balked, looking up at Solas. “Huh? Since _then_?!”

The hedge mage’s stance relaxed considerably, but he still stood in front of U’Din. He folded his arms behind him and nodded at Cole. “Greetings. I am Solas. Who might you be?”

“I’m Cole. Hello.” He replied simply. Then he looked back at U’Din. “I wanted to help when you ran out of there, broken, badgered, _bleeding_. But you needed him, not me. Until he couldn’t reach you anymore. So I came out to help.”

“ _Compassion_.” Solas said in realization. He looked down at U’Din and repeated, “U’Din, this is a spirit of compassion. Their purpose is to help, comfort. They are drawn mostly to those who are in despair. Those who need help.”

“I _want_ to help. Like you do.” Cole said, walking a bit closer to the two of them.

U’Din blinked his puffy eyes at the spirit. “M-Me? Help? What do you mean?”

“You help people. You made them safe when they would have died—even at the cost of your own life.” The spirit said solemnly, admirably. He was looking at U’Din’s bandaged chest when he said that. “ _I_ want to do that. I want to help. Like you. And _you_ need help, so I want to help _you_.”

U’Din scoffed and turned away. “I didn’t help, Cole. If you were there back at the Chantry, you know what the shems said. They... They didn’t approve of what I did. They said I should have informed them first before making a decision—“

“Well, they’re _wrong_.” Cole said a little firmly. He turned to Solas, silently asking for permission, and the hedge mage slowly stepped away. The spirit then crouched in front of U’Din and said, “Listen, you did more than anyone did that day. More than Cullen. Or Josephine. Or Leliana and Cassandra. Because _you_ were there. You saw what happened, and lived through it and kept everyone safe. You _helped_ the templars. Saved them from themselves.”

The blond’s brows furrowed at Cole’s words, and tears started welling up in his eyes again. He felt frustration, pain and despair all at once. He just... didn’t understand!

“It’s okay to be angry. Let yourself be a little angry.” Cole crooned soothingly. U’Din let out a sob. “You always have the best plans. You always did. They don’t see it now, but they will.”

“They _won’t_. All they care about is what _they_ think.” The blond replied quietly, sniffling.

“They will if you explain it to them.” The spirit said. He looked down and said, “The dwarf and the archer went to the Chantry to defend you. And the mage that acts like a noble said a few things, too. The advisors feel kinda bad, you know. They want to apologize.”

The blond blinked. “The dwarf and... You mean Mr. Varric and Sera? And Lady Vivienne?”

“Yes.” Cole said, looking up to see U’Din staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled. “The advisors might not have appreciated what you did, but a lot of people do. And they stood up for you!”

“...Why?” He asked, stunned. He didn’t expect that. Not at all. Especially Sera and Vivienne. What... Why would they do that for him? What’s so special about him?

“I already told you. You care for people, help them without expecting anything in return. And that inspires people, makes them look up to you, do things that they normally wouldn’t. People see that, even if you don’t.” Cole answered his thoughts.

“But _why_? Why would they do that for me?” U’Din asked, honestly perplexed. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked up to see Solas smiling down at him. He looked so gentle, so kind.

“Because we are your friends, U’Din.” The hedge mage said. “And friends... look out for each other.”

The blond’s eyes went wide. Solas... thought they were friends? Varric, Sera, even Lady Vivienne... tried to help him? But—he started tearing up again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Ever since—Ever since Ellana stopped being his friend all those years ago, he almost gave up on the thought of having friends. Didn’t think he’d ever have any anymore.

But then... _this_ happened. He... He was so—He didn’t know what to—

Cole smiled up at him as he cried again. He didn’t do anything to help, but that was because U’Din didn’t _need_ any. And he knew because U’Din wouldn’t stop saying _thank you_.

Solas simply watched him as well, but he frowned and placed a hand on his chest. He shook his head and sat next to U’Din, patting him on the back to get his attention.

He smiled. “Let’s settle this with the advisors now, shall we?”

U’Din sniffled and nodded, “Y-Yeah. Okay. But um... will you guys be there? I don’t know if I can—“

“We’ll be there for you if you need our support.” Solas reassured him, pulling him up so he could stand. “Although, it would be best if you try to explain yourself without our help. You can manage that, can you?”

“Of-Of course. I just need... emotional support, I guess.” U’Din admitted. “That is, if it’s all right with you? I don’t want to—“

“That’s perfectly fine. Anything else?”

“No. Nothing more. Oh, shit, wait—“

“Why? What is it, U’Din? Are you hurt?”

“...I need a shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... made a huge mistake last time. Turns out my finals weren't next week, but THIS week. So the morning I updated, I went to class totally unprepared for the final exam. I had two exams that day, and I'm pretty sure I bombed them. SHIT. =))))) I feel so empty inside and UGH. Dammit OTL Thanks for the good luck wishes, though! Even though I ended up not needing them. D:
> 
> SO. UM. Yeah. I decided to cut it there because next chapter will be the continuation of this, and the advisors will finally show U'Din the parcel the Keeper sent him. Uh-oh. :)) SO MUCH DRAMA. I CAN'T GIVE HIM A BREAK SORRY. But lighthearted chapters soon! We won't start the attack on Haven part for... three chapters? I think. Maybe two, idk.
> 
> Before anyone gets on my case about Vivienne, I just wanna say that she wasn't being TOO nice. I hope. And besides, I'm pretty sure the woman's a big softie deep, DEEP inside. And I didn't make her too nice. Just sympathetic to U'Din because of his encounter with a demon. I'm assuming from her banters with Cole that she had really bad experiences with them. So yeah. Sera too! I dunno if I have to explain it or not, but she was just... being Sera. Idk. She's a goofball but I'm sure she has a noble heart. LOL get it? XD /shot
> 
> Cole didn't appear like this in the game, but he basically just interrupts haha. This is going to deviate from the game quite a bit, but I'm using the basic framework of how the game plays out. So yeah, expect changes! :) 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read, guys! I'm so touched and honored and WOW WE REACHED 3k HITS. I don't particularly care about hits, but that's a big deal to me. Never wrote something this "popular." I think. Oh wait no. I did. But that was a long time ago :)) AHEM anyway! Thank you for the comments and kudos you've given me so far! Please leave me some feedback. It would motivate me a lot <3
> 
> (BTW there will be art every chapter now! Yey! So far I've only made art for chapter one. But I'm planning on making art for certain scenes. HAHAHA. Good luck to me OTL Also, [an "updated" version of how U'Din looks like](http://prodigal-san-returns.tumblr.com/post/134267079366/im-playing-with-the-saturation-when-i-should-be)!)


	16. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARGH I hate this chapter, too. :( I'm sorry if the quality is decreasing or something. I dunno, I just feel like this chapter can be better but. UGH. Anyway, I don't know how else to improve this, so here you go. :)) 
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Will correct mistakes later on!

It was already getting dark by the time U’Din decided to go back to the Chantry and try talking with the shems again. His eyes were puffy from the excessive crying, and they stung whenever the cold wind blew against his face. It was at times like this that made him _really_ miss having a hood—wait, he _wanted_ a hood. Not missed one. The cloak he wore on the way to the Frostbacks the first time didn’t count. He flattened his hair distractedly as he thought about it.

Cole had disappeared again, but U’Din could still feel him around somehow. Maybe it was the spirit’s way of showing that he was going to support U’Din like he asked. And speaking of support...

U’Din turned to Solas who looked much better in a clean shirt. He played with his fingers. “Hahren, you—you don’t _have_ to come with me if you don’t want to. I mean, I just asked if you could come with me because I was, you know, afraid, but now I think—“

“U’Din, you do not have to worry. I’m accompanying you on my own volition.” The older elf reassured him. He turned to the blond. “Is your shirt fine, by the way? I’m afraid I don’t have many articles of clothing to lend you.”

“This is more than fine, hahren. Thanks for lending me one of your shirts.” The blond said earnestly. He looked down and noticed that it was the same style as the usual tunic Solas wore around Haven, but it was deeper in color. He adjusted the sleeves since they were slightly loose around that area, bunching them up slightly at the shoulders. He blinked.

Solas... had pretty broad shoulders, he realized. He discreetly looked at the older elf and wondered why he never noticed until now. He also didn’t notice that he was staring until Solas turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Is something the matter, U’Din?”

“I—err—“ He stammered, blushing a bit. He cleared his throat and said, “I was just, um, wondering if you were... really okay with going with me. I-I think I’ll be fine. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Again, you needn’t worry.” The hedge mage said. “And personally, I simply wish to be there when you talk to them. Also, I would like to make sure that you _actually_ go inside the Chantry, and not in a _tree_.”

The slight jab made him sigh. “You really aren’t going to let that go, are you?”

“Am I wrong in assuming that you wouldn’t hide if you get the chance?”

“I’m not _stupid_ , you know. I know hiding would just make it worse.” U’Din said. Then he grumbled; now that he thought about it, hiding _did_ seem pretty tempting. But it wasn’t a good idea to avoid the inevitable.

“I know that, U’Din. But as for hiding making things worse,” The side of Solas’ lips curled up. “That never stopped you before, hadn’t it?”

“Hah, hah, _hah_.” U’Din laughed sarcastically. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me, hahren.”

“I _do_ have faith in you, U’Din. You’re a brilliant elf, as I’ve said before. I truly believe you can accomplish anything you wish.” Solas replied a little more seriously. “But all that skill and ability won’t mean anything if you don’t have faith in yourself. You know this, yes?”

Solas’ words stunned U’Din, rendering him silent. Also, he couldn’t help but feel... flattered when the older elf complimented him. Not willing to think about _why_ , the blond decided to remain silent for the rest of the walk.

When they arrived at their destination, the Chantry doors were open, strangely enough, so he and Solas walked in freely. U’Din had just closed the doors when he heard a strange, but familiar sound.

The blond blinked. _Hoot_? It kept repeating, and he looked around the Chantry until he found a white owl perched on top of one of the columns. U’Din’s eyes lit up in recognition—so _that’s_ what he heard that time! He rubbed his nose at the memory.

“An owl.” Solas spoke beside him, also looking up at the hooting bird. He cocked his head to the side. “It’s strange to see it all the way here, so close to the Breach. Normally animals have learned to stay away from this place, aside from the occasional ram and druffalo.”

“What’s it doing here, then?” U’Din asked, strangely attracted to the owl. It hopped a bit closer to the edge of the platform, allowing U’Din to see it better. Despite his anxiety regarding the shems, he couldn’t help but smile.

It was... so _adorable_.

“At a guess, it probably turned the Chantry into its new home. Though I see no signs of a nest.”

As if in reply, the owl hooted and opened its wings to glide down towards U’Din. The blond shielded himself with his arm reflexively, and the owl ended up using his extended arm as a perch. When U’Din relaxed, it hopped all the way to his shoulder.

U’Din blinked, and it blinked back. “Um... hi?”

The white owl hooted happily in reply.

Solas smiled at the exchange. “It seems to have taken a liking towards you.”

U’Din didn’t say anything. Instead, he focused on the white owl blinking at him. They stared at each other for a while, as if assessing the other.

Their staring contest got interrupted when they heard a door open, and both elves (plus owl) turned to see the shems walking out of the War Room. U’Din gulped, and he looked at the ground to avoid eye contact with any of them.

“Herald!” He heard Cassandra exclaim, and he could hear footsteps coming closer. By the time he saw their feet, the Seeker was already talking to Solas. “Is he all right? We heard his wounds opened!”

“You need not fear, Seeker. I took care of most of it.” Solas responded, folding his arms behind him.

“Thank the Maker you’re all right then, U’Din.”

At that point, the blond thought that he should _probably_ look up to acknowledge her. Slowly, he brought his head up and nodded silently. He mentally cursed himself for being so weak, but he couldn’t help it. He was paralyzed by fear.

“Herald,” He flinched slightly when he heard Josephine speak. He turned to see the advisors lined up in their usual positions, looking a bit sheepish. “Are you sure you’re not in pain? We can ask one of our healers to take a look at you.”

“A wound like that should have healed already if you drank a potion at Therinfal. It’s been, what, two days?” Cullen brought up, looking a bit worried himself. “If it’s not healing, we need the help of a professional.”

“No offense, Solas.” Leliana brought up, turning to the hedge mage.

Solas smiled politely. “None taken. I am not a healer, and U’Din’s wounds definitely need to be checked. As well as the others.”

U’Din turned to him, looking betrayed, “ _Hahren_!”

Solas frowned at U’Din and said, “U’Din, your condition is very alarming. If it proves to be a fatal sickness, we _must_ find out now.”

“ _Fatal_ sickness?!” Cassandra sounded distraught. She turned to him and asked, “Herald, are you _sick_ this whole time? Without _telling_ us?!”

“N-No! I’m not— _please_ , let’s not talk about this now.” U’Din begged, waving a hand defensively. The owl on his shoulder hooted. “We’re supposed to... talk about what happened at Therinfal first. I mean, the templars would be arriving any day now. Shouldn’t we be preparing for that?”

“We should.” Cassandra conceded, but she was still giving him a look. “But we _cannot_ ignore what Solas has revealed. And—is that an _owl_?”

As if in reply, the owl flapped a wing and hooted. The blond looked at it first before replying, “Um, yeah. I just—It was here in the Chantry. I dunno why it likes me, though.”

“An owl? _Here_ in the Chantry?” Leliana wondered, looking around. “That’s strange. I never noticed it before.”

U’Din blinked at the Spymaster. “Really? But I—I kinda heard it a few days ago. When I, um,” He rubbed his nose, reddening a bit. The impact hurt, but not as much as his ego.

“ _That’s_ why you bumped into the door?” Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow at the owl. And then she shook her head and glared at him. “We’re getting off topic! Herald, you should have mentioned that you had a sickness. You shouldn’t have kept this a secret!”

“I don’t think we’re in the position to be angry at him about _secrets_ ,” Cullen mumbled behind her. Leliana gave him a hard look.

“But the Herald _is_ correct. We should discuss the Therinfal mission first. That’s what we agreed upon, no?” Josephine told her fellow advisors. Then she faltered and turned to Solas with a concerned look. “Unless, of course, Solas believes that him seeing a healer should take precedence?”

“His wounds are stabilized for now. He should be fine as long as he keeps them from being infected.”

“That settles it, then. Um. Right?” U’Din turned to the shems, sounding a bit hopeful. If there was anything he didn’t want to discuss, it was the state of his wounds. He’d rather discuss the Therinfal mission every day for the rest of his life than discuss his wounds _once_. Which he already did, kinda.

The shems exchanged looks, silently considering. Eventually, they all nodded.

“Very well. Let’s discuss the events at Therinfal.” Cassandra said. All six of them headed towards the War Room, but before U’Din could enter, she turned her head and said, “But we _will_ talk about your wounds eventually.”

He thought of Cassandra’s words and sighed. He nodded eventually, though he silently tried to come up with a way to delay that talk for as long as possible. He was thinking along the lines of... _trees_.

While he was thinking, the owl had flown from his shoulder and entered the War Room, perching on the table. It seemed very interested in the map. The advisors also exchanged looks, communicating with gestures and eye contact. The women urged Cullen to speak first. He gave a silent look of protest, and they all gave him hard looks. Cullen looked betrayed, but then he sighed and nodded. He cleared his throat to get U’Din’s attention, but when he did he hesitated.

“Herald, I—“ Cullen cut himself off, furrowing his brows. He shook his head and sighed before lifting his eyes to meet U’Din’s, looking sincere. “I must apologize for my behavior earlier. That... was uncalled for. You had only arrived, yet I took out my frustrations on you.”

U’Din frowned at the memory and looked at the ground. “I only did what I thought was best, Commander. I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t defer to you to make a decision.” He paused, planning on ending it there. He flinched slightly when Solas cleared his throat, and he sighed. “I-I mean, I understand that the order had a lot of history and tradition, but they unknowingly harbored a demon for who knows how long. And they’re _supposed_ to be able to combat that kind of thing, aren’t they? They’re _templars_. I was convinced that there had been corruption at play, and not just the literal kind. The knight-vigilant’s body in the knight-commander’s office proved it.

“After we defeated the Envy demon, the Templar Order became leaderless. Their commanders either betrayed them or died, and the veterans that remained aren’t fit to take over either. Because of that I didn’t... see the point of allowing them to freely ally with us. They were too inexperienced. It would put us at a disadvantage because the enemy can take advantage of _them_.

“But I didn’t, you know, want them to work for the Inquisition _forever_.I thought that by becoming knights of the Inquisition, they could learn how to function as an order and perhaps one day reestablish it. That’s... what the first Inquisition did, right? The soldiers disbanded and formed the Templar Order. That’s what I read in that book Lady Josephine gave me.”

Everyone silently considered his words, but most of them were shocked that he thought ahead and even had logical points to support his decision. Or rather, they were shocked that he was more strategic than they originally thought he was.

“That... is true.” Cassandra said eventually, sharing a look with the advisors. “The commanders _should_ have noticed that something was wrong, even if the entire scheme was orchestrated by an Envy demon. And we _do_ have evidence that the commanders willingly blighted their knights.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point.” Cullen conceded, though he still looked troubled. “However, I just—the _order_...” He sighed, looking away.

“What Commander Cullen is trying to say is that there are consequences to every decision you make, Herald.” Josephine continued for him. “I know now that you did not just simply decide by whim, and we do apologize for assuming that, but you _do_ realize the impact this would have? On the world?”

“It’s not like I’m _stupid_ ,” U’Din said a little roughly. “And the arrangement isn’t permanent, either. I _did_ promise them that they could leave once this is over, so this is just long-term at best. I don’t know a lot about the templars, but I _know_ they have their duties. I respected that; that’s why I made them that offer.”

“We weren’t trying to insult you, Herald,” Cullen amended. “We just simply wanted to inform you that this could have drawbacks. The Chantry, for example, would be _very_ displeased to know that the order has disbanded because of the Inquisition.”

U’Din finally looked up at him. He looked confused. “Why are we worried about the Chantry _now_? Don’t they think we’re a bunch of heretics, anyway?”

Leliana chuckled a bit, looking at her fellow advisors. “He _does_ have a point, you know.”

“All right, all right, I understand.” Cullen said. He looked back at U’Din and looked apologetic. “In any case, my behavior a while ago was unbecoming. I should have been more... considerate of you and what you had to experience.”

“I as well,” Josephine apologized too. “I did not mean to imply earlier that you had decided without thinking. Or that you didn’t do your job well. You did _immensely_ well, Herald. We want you to realize that.”

The Commander and Ambassador apologizing made U’Din itch uncomfortably. He shook his head and said, “No, Commander, it’s not your fault. Neither is it yours, Ambassador. You were... right to be angry. You were a templar, so it must have been hard for you. And Lady Josephine, you know political matters the best. It was I who had acted rashly. I still stand by what I did, but I should have respected your positions here. And I’m sorry for... walking out a while ago.”

Cullen smiled a little. “And crying?”

U’Din’s eyes widened. “ _Wha_ —“

“What he _means_ is we are sorry for making you feel distressed.” Cassandra said. Leliana shifted in the background and Cullen let out a pained grunt. “And that in the future, we will try not to jump to conclusions.”

U’Din nodded and rubbed his arm. Wow, this was so awkward. “Y-Yeah. That’s okay. And, um, I’ll try not to walk out again. Or let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Good. Now that we’ve— _Solas_.” The Seeker sounded slightly surprised to see him there. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

The elf smiled thinly. “Partly to offer support. And the other...” He turned to U’Din and gestured for the blond to come closer. When he did, he held on to the blond’s left arm. “Is to inform you about another change in the Herald’s mark.”

“It changed _again_?!” Cassandra exclaimed, and the advisors looked at the Herald in alarm. “What—But did it not just change recently? Now you’re saying it went through another transformation?!”

“I have already mentioned that the Herald’s magic is what’s making the mark change shape. But it is also causing him pain, and it gets worse after every transformation.”

“Maker, are you all right?” Cullen asked him.

“I, um. I’m okay.” He said quietly, briefly narrowing his eyes at Solas. He could have warned U’Din that he was going to mention it! “It’s not bad when I’m not using magic through my left hand. But the veins are kinda...”

“What happened to the veins?” Leliana asked Solas. “Have they become agitated again?”

Solas sighed and started removing the blond’s gauntlet. “I’m afraid they’ve become worse.”

He carefully removed the gauntlet, but the leather grazed U’Din’s skin and made the blond hiss. Solas gave him an apologetic look before removing the gauntlet completely. The shems stared at the blond’s arm in alarm.

“Oh dear—“ Josephine covered her mouth at the sight of his arm.

“What—What are _those_?” Cullen asked, going around the table to see the arm much closer. The other advisors followed suit, and he frowned as he bent over to look at the strange shards that jutted out of U’Din’s arm. “These—Are these crystals of some sort? Are his veins turning into this?”

“They remind me of that clumsily sealed rift we encountered at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Cassandra mentioned, narrowing her eyes at the Herald’s arm. But it was more due to wariness than actual anger. She turned to Solas. “What do you suppose this means, Solas? The mark changing due to his magic is one thing, but for those shards to be manifesting—“

“I have my theories, though I need more time to study the change.” Solas said quite vaguely, making U’Din turn to blink at him. “What’s certain as of now is that U’Din absolutely _cannot_ use his left hand to use magic anymore. If he uses it again, I am... not optimistic about the outcome.”

“Understood.” Cassandra nodded, as well as the other advisors. She turned to U’Din. “The shards hurt went they are touched, don’t they? It might be best if you do not use that gauntlet anymore. It seems to do more harm than good.”

“But the Herald could attract unwanted attention.” Leliana said, ever the pragmatic one. “And covering it might offer better protection since his veins are sensitive to touch. Perhaps a different design would be needed.”

“True. If people see what happened to his mark—“

“It would cause tongues to wag. Suspicions to rise.” Cullen finished for Josephine. He shook his head and looked at the Herald somewhat pitifully. “Maker knows why this is happening to you, but you were right in keeping the mark hidden. We have to be careful from now on.”

U’Din dropped his head and sighed. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know why this is happening, but it’s my fa—“

“ _Herald_.”

“ _U’Din_.”

Both Cassandra and Solas chastised him at the same time, and it made U’Din feel more embarrassed. The side of his mouth deepened as he looked down at the ground. “S-Sorry.”

They all sighed. They _had_ to do something about the Herald’s self-esteem. Or lack, thereof. It was becoming more troublesome than “endearing”, and they doubted the Herald wanted to feel that way either. But they would have to think about that another time; right now they had to discuss the events at Therinfal in more detail.

Cassandra turned to Solas and said, “I would like another report on the Herald’s mark, Solas. _And_ what you’ve observed about his persisting wounds.”

The hedge mage inclined his head. “Very well. I could write one in a few hours. If I may take my leave?”

“Yes. Thank you, Solas.”

Solas inclined his head again and turned to leave, but not before giving U’Din a small smile and a nod. It was his way of saying that U’Din did well. The blond returned the smile, silently thanking the other elf for his support. The exchange was not lost on the advisors.

After the door closed behind him, U’Din faced his advisors nervously. “So, um. About the templars—“

A loud noise interrupted him, and U’Din almost wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. No, no it can’t _be_! But then he saw a certain young man crouched on top of the table where the owl was. While the advisors were busy being taken by surprise, Cole bent a bit forward and picked up a marker on the table.

“They’re almost here. Templars don’t like to be late.” He said. He looked down at the owl and waved with the hand holding the marker. “ _Hello_.”

It hooted back happily.

The two warriors exclaimed and took out their swords, and U’Din flailed and quickly told them to _wait_. He turned his head to see Cole waving his fingers in front of the owl, seemingly indifferent about the commotion happening around him.

U’Din groaned and rubbed his temples. He _really_ had to get Cole to stop doing that.

 

* * *

 

After Cole’s... _unexpected_ appearance, U’Din and his advisors discussed what happened at Therinfal and what to do about the templars. There was a whole lot of logistics involved (especially when it came to lyrium supplies) and a lot less badgering about his decision this time around. He didn’t know if he should be thankful or suspicious; the advisors seemed a bit anxious in that room for some reason. U’Din would know the signs.

But lyrium. That was the biggest topic they discussed in that room. If he had to be honest, he was intrigued by the subject since he never had any experience with lyrium personally. In fact, he doubted Dalish clans ever invested in the stuff; they were too expensive, and having contacts with lyrium suppliers could attract unwanted attention—something the Dalish _didn’t_ want. He wondered if _his_ clan ever dealt with them, though. They traded a lot with shems, though U’Din was never allowed to interact with them.

As they discussed the issue, U’Din remembered Cullen informing him about underground “contacts” a few weeks ago. He suggested that they make use of them along with Josephine’s more legitimate suppliers. They spent another few minutes arguing over who should take precedence. The Herald just sighed, wondering what the problem was with just contacting _both_.

When they were done, U’Din sighed in relief. He felt extremely tired, both emotionally and physically. Not to mention hungry. He would love to get something hot and filling, and maybe something sweet too. He smiled at the thought; he liked sweets. The owl on his shoulder hooted, as if agreeing with his thoughts.

He could also look for the companions who stood up for him and thank them properly. He knew how to approach Varric, and even Sera, but Vivienne... he sighed. He wondered how he should talk to her. U’Din rubbed his chin in thought; perhaps he should read up more on Orlesian fashion—

“Herald U’Din? May I have a word?”

U’Din stopped in his tracks and turned to see Leliana approaching him. He briefly looked at the exit of the Chantry before nodding politely at the Spymaster. “Yes, Lady Leliana? Is there something else you needed?”

“That is—“ The redhead frowned, and it looked like she was having a difficult time coming up with the words to say. Instead, she just inclined her head to the side—a gesture meant to ask him to follow her.

U’Din blinked, but he nodded. He followed the silent Spymaster, wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. Did something bad happen? Why didn’t she just tell him earlier in the War Room? He hoped it wouldn’t take too long; he wanted to thank Varric, Sera and Vivienne for earlier. And also eat. And sleep.

“I have... something to show you, Herald.” Leliana said when they entered Josephine’s office. Looking around briefly, he could see that the Ambassador was already there, and she looked like she had been waiting for them. But what got his attention was Cassandra and Cullen were there as well.

His heartbeat sped up. Something... was off. What was going on?

Leliana went to a corner and peeked at something U’Din couldn’t see. Her frown deepened, and she turned back to him. “Before I show you though, I want you to promise _not_ to overreact. Or jump to conclusions. Allow us to explain first. Is that all right, Herald?”

“Um, what are you talking about?” U’Din asked, honestly confused. The owl left his shoulder and perched on a bookshelf near where Leliana had looked. It hooted.

“It’s... hard to explain.” She turned to her fellow advisors for help. Cullen shrugged helplessly, making her sigh. They continued to communicate like that for a moment, making the blond elf less nervous and more suspicious.

“...What happened?” He asked the shems warily, looking at each of them. They looked at each other, and they appeared... guilty? Worried?

“We... _might_ have done something behind your back, Your Worship.” The blond commander began, folding his arms behind him.

“That’s going to make him feel _worse_.” Josephine chastised, and Cullen shut his mouth sheepishly. She turned to the blond who looked about ready to bolt the room. “Now, Herald, what the commander meant to say was... well, we did something that concerns you... without informing you about it first.”

“How is _that_ better?” Cullen griped.

“Well, it’s better than just saying it like you did a moment ago!”

“ _Enough_!” Cassandra barked, and the two advisors shut up quickly. She shook her head and approached the wary-looking elf. “U’Din, what we’re trying to say is, we... made an attempt to contact your clan.”

U’Din’s eyes widened, his shock showing on his face for everyone to see. He began to sweat and slowly turned his eyes to the ground, trying to remain calm.

No, they were lying. They... They couldn’t know which clan was his! There were hundreds of Dalish clans in Thedas! There might be even more. The shems couldn’t have found his clan. They were bluffing. They didn’t even know what the name wa—

“Your clan is the Lavellan clan, isn’t it?”

...Oh, shit. _Shit_!

What little hope U’Din had shattered, and he didn’t bother hiding the agony and despair on his face. He slowly started backing away, and his actions did not go unnoticed. The Seeker quickly moved to block the door, and U’Din turned away from them, breathing heavily and panicking.

 _Fuck_ , could his day just get any worse?!

“Herald, _please_ calm down! It’s not what you think it is!” She tried reassuring him. When U’Din still refused to look at her, she tried again, “Believe us when we say that we would _never_ harm you. Ever! And it’s not just because you’re the Herald of Andraste!”

Lies. _Lies_. They were trying to trick him, he knew! Why else would they delay telling him about their “attempt to contact his clan”? Why didn’t they just mention it in the War Room if their actions were harmless? And their tone... something obviously happened to his clan.

Did they... _destroy_ his clan? Oh, he knew it, he _knew_ it! He was such a fool, a _failure_! He had to—He had to go back! He had to do something for them! _The Living can wait, the Dead won’t_. He didn’t care, he’d do something for _all_ of them. Each of them! One by one, till the last clan member’s soul was safely guided. He’d play his ocarina till the pain in his left hand _killed him_ —

He let out a surprised cry when he was forcibly turned around and slapped. He took a few steps back and held the left side of his face. He looked up and saw Cassandra with a regretful expression on her face.

“I—I apologize, U’Din! I didn’t know how else to snap you out of it!” She apologized frantically. The blond just blinked up at her, not really sure what happened.

“Yes, calm him down by _slapping_ the poor bloke.” Cullen muttered under his breath, but he too looked like he was about to do something until Cassandra intervened.

“I had to do _something_.” The Seeker looked briefly over her shoulder before guiding the stunned elf back deeper into the room. “Herald, like I said before, we attempted to contact your clan. We were able to find them by studying the herbs we found in your bag before. That led us to search the Free Marches.”

U’Din blanched, and he mentally cursed himself. Fuck. _Fuck_! He had wondered where those went! They couldn’t have rotten already that time! Shit, these shems were _good_. They were a step ahead of him all this time! He was such a fucking _idiot_ why didn’t—

“Your Worship, please!” Josephine went over to him, taking him aback. “We meant absolutely no harm when we decided to contact them. We just wanted to find a way to... to reassure you! To make you trust us. If we contacted your clan and made peace with them, we thought we could prove our sincerity and friendliness!”

“...So what happened?” U’Din finally found the courage to speak to them. He looked at each of them warily. “If you meant what you said—that you just wanted to make peace with them, why do you all look guilty? Why are you asking me to not jump to conclusions? I’m—“

“We _know_ you quite a bit already to predict that your reaction would be less than desirable.” Cullen cut him off, though not harshly. “It has come to our attention that you do not... trust us as much as we would like. We wanted to contact your Keeper and ask for a bit of advice concerning you. Find out why you’re so...” He refused to finish, so he just looked at Leliana who had just picked something up from the ground behind Josephine’s desk. Something U’Din recognized.

It was... the staff he made for the Keeper! Why did they have that?!

“We made contact with your clan, and they were... not as friendly as we would have hoped.” Leliana admitted, looking at the staff in her hand. She approached U’Din and handed it to him. The blond took it quickly, inspecting it. “I had sent her a letter explaining the situation, and she replied to me expressing her... _dissatisfaction_ with us.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Cullen said, remembering what was written in the letter addressed to Leliana. He winced.

“What did she say?” U’Din asked, finding his reaction suspicious.

“Mostly how _deplorable_ we were for lying about not keeping you here against your will. How you wouldn’t willingly stay with us.” Leliana replied.

“Is that true, Herald?” Cassandra asked, looking somewhat sad at recalling the Keeper’s claims. “You would have left if given the chance?”

U’Din was taken aback. “I—“

“Never mind that.” Leliana cut him off before he could attempt to answer. “In any case, she also sent _you_ a letter. It’s there, wrapped around the staff.”

The elf looked at the neck of the staff and, indeed, there _was_ a letter wrapped around it. He quickly unknotted the thin rope and unrolled the letter to read it. It was written in Elvhen.

“We wanted to give you privacy, but the letter addressed to me was rolled along with it, so I couldn’t help but _see_ it.” The Spymaster said. “Even if we wanted to read it, we wouldn’t have understood it. That’s written Elvhen, isn’t it, Herald?”

“...Yes.” He said, eyes moving along the lines of the letter. His expression remained focused as he read, but deep inside he was reacting to the letter. _Responding_ to it.

 _“My Second,”_ It read. _“I deeply apologize for allowing this to happen to you. If I had been aware of Ellana’s decision that time, I would have fought hard against it. But it is too late. You have that strange mark. You are being bound by the shems. I don’t know how else I can express my sorrow and regret. My poor Second, your Keeper has failed you. I’m so, so sorry._

 _“But you_ must _come back, U’Din. You are needed here. The clan mourns your absence; the children ask for you every day, wondering when you would return. Master Alayna misses her best apprentice. And I miss my Second. Whatever lies the shems have fed you to make you stay, forget them! You belong_ here _. You must return immediately!_

_“I eagerly await your response, da’len. If you do not reply by the next full moon, I will assume the shems have hidden this letter from you and act. I’ll see you returned to your people, even if I have to do it myself._

_“Dareth shiral, my Second. Till I see you again.”_

U’Din felt like he spent hours looking at his Keeper’s signature. It was... definitely _hers_. The staff was hers, so that also proved the legitimacy of the letter. The written Elvhen could have been proof enough but... that wouldn’t have satisfied him. His Keeper knew him well.

And now she wanted him to go back. What should he do?

“Well?” Cassandra prompted after a while of silence. “What does it say, Herald?”

“She... My Keeper wants me to return to the clan.” He rolled the letter, looking away. He prepared himself for the outburst he knew would—

“That is not possible!” Cassandra shouted. “We need you here, Herald! You’re the only one who possesses the ability to close the Breach. Does your Keeper not realize that? The scouts swore that they explained it as thoroughly as they could!”

U’Din didn’t answer. He pocketed the letter and looked at the ground, contemplating on what he just read.

The Keeper... wanted him back. Master Alayna wanted him back. The _kids_ wanted him back. That... made him extremely homesick. With all the stress he’d had experienced recently, he forgot just how much he missed being back home. How he missed forging with Master Alayna, how he missed telling the kids stories from his father’s journals. The realization hit him full force, and he _desperately_ wanted to pack his things and leave.

 _But_.

He looked at his covered hand and made a face. He... was the only one who could close the Breach. And they were so _close_ , like Solas said. He wanted to go back home, but a part of him, Big and Noisy, told him to think about it _really_ hard. This wasn’t a decision he could make lightly anymore. A few months ago, maybe. But now it was different. _Way_ different.

U’Din saw for himself what would happen if things were left the way they were. If _he_ didn’t help do something about it. But he was so scared to make big decisions, afraid to fail, and worried that he might cause an even bigger tragedy. He wasn’t even the _leader_ of this movement, and yet he was tasked with so many duties that concerned the lives of many. It frightened him; he didn’t want anyone to die because of him! He’d sooner die than let _anyone_ die!

...But wasn’t that a reason for him to _stay_?

He hugged the staff as he thought about it. He... didn’t want to toot his own horn or anything, but... he _supposed_ he helped quite a bit. Like those scouts back in the mountain pass. And the refugees in the Hinterlands. And that elven couple, that widow Maura, Master Dennet. He could have done a better job with the war between the mages and the templars in the Hinterlands surely, but maybe he contributed a bit to its successful halt? Also recently, he helped save the nobles and templars at Therinfal.

 _‘And I helped close some rifts around Thedas.’_ He concluded, looking at his covered mark. U’Din clenched his fist and sighed.

Maybe... he _could_ help. Perhaps not as well as he wished he could, but still help. And he won’t lie; helping and protecting people was something he enjoyed immensely. It fulfilled him. He hadn’t realized it until now because he never took a moment to think about it, even when he was still with his clan. But looking back on it now, it made sense.

 _The Living can wait. The Dead won’t._ To protect the dying, the suffering—he wanted to do it. He felt like he _needed_ to do it! But how could a weak Second like him do anything right for anybody? He didn’t know what to do!

“Herald?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by Cassandra’s quiet call. She sounded so unsure, so unlike her. Then she looked angry. “Surely... Surely you’re not _considering_ leaving?! Right when we’re so close to sealing the Breach?”

“...I don’t know what to think, actually.” U’Din admitted, turning away from her and gripped the staff tightly. He turned to the other side and saw the other shems staring at him worriedly. _Uneasily_. Like they feared what he would eventually decide. And they probably did.

 _He_ did, too.

“Herald,” Josephine began, and he looked up to meet her eyes. She was calm. Or trying to be. He could see it in the way she was rubbing her hands. “We understand that you are in a... less than desirable position, given your background, but we do wish that you think about this more thoroughly. You’re the _only_ one who can close the Breach. We’ve come so far, and we cannot finish this without you, Your Worship.”

“Please stop calling me that!” U’Din shouted frantically, striking the ground with the staff and taking her aback. “Please— _Please_ stop calling me _Your Worship_! Or _my lord_ or—just don’t! I’m not—“ He bit his lip and took a deep breath. He saw the uncertain look on the Ambassador’s face and immediately felt regretful.

“I—I’m _sorry_ , Lady Josephine. Please forgive me. _But_ ,” He paused, hugging the staff again. “I’m really not comfortable with these titles. I’m not a noble or an important person. I’m just... me.” He concluded pathetically, not really sure how to express what he wanted to say.

“You _are_ important, U’Din. You’re the Herald of Andraste— _no_ , don’t give me that look!” Cassandra gave him a warning look before he could protest. “I understand your uncertainty, U’Din. I imagine this is all very hard on you, and we apologize for not easing you into the role. But we had no time to wait for you to adjust, though we do regret not giving you any.

“Ambassador Montilyet _does_ have a point, U’Din. We’re already _so close_ to reaching our first goal: sealing the Breach. If you leave now, everything we’ve accomplished and sacrificed would be for nothing! Surely you understand that?”

Of _course_ he did! He wasn’t stupid! He just... didn’t know what to do! He would have lashed out and shouted that, but he was discouraged from saying anything after feeling a familiar sting in his eyes. So he just turned away to blink away the helpless tears discreetly, hoping they wouldn’t notice the way he was breathing in deeply.

Cassandra was about to say more when a tug on her arm stopped her. Leliana gave her a look and shook her head, silently telling her to stop. The Seeker made discontented sound at her interruption.

Leliana’s look hardened. “I know you’re upset, but we mustn’t pressure him. The more we try to force him, the less agreeable he becomes.”

“Leliana, we can’t _let_ him leave. If he does, who would seal the Breach? Who would bring hope to those who have lost it? Who would help us bring peace back to this chaotic world? We must—“

“Give him time to think. It’s... the least we could do, after all.” Leliana said gravely. She turned to frown at U’Din’s back. “The templar veterans will take a few days to arrive. The Herald can use that time to think. He does, of course, agree that he has to stay until he seals the Breach?”

It took him a moment, but U’Din nodded. “Y-Yeah. I wouldn’t leave when we’re so close. It’s... the staying after I’m not so sure about.”

Leliana spoke before Cassandra could react to that statement. “Understandable. We _would_ like you to stay and help us close the remaining rifts and apprehend the one who created the Breach in the first place, but... well. We’ll let you think about it, Herald.”

Once again, U’Din nodded. Then he added, “May I leave now? I’d... like to think.”

The owl hooted and flew back to U’Din’s shoulder, briefly surprising the occupants in the room, sans U’Din. He briefly turned his head and nodded at them before reaching for the door. But before he could pull the knob, Leliana spoke.

“Your Keeper has sent you a few more things aside from that letter. I’ll have someone send it to you later.”

“...Thank you.” U’Din said sincerely, turning to look at them one last time before pulling the door open and leaving.

“Are you _mad_?” Cullen finally spoke after U’Din closed the door behind him. “What if he decides to leave? How do you suppose we—“

“We’ll let the Herald decide.” Leliana spoke with finality, turning to the blond whose back was facing them. “We’ve trusted him enough to make decisions before, no? How is this any different?”

“But this is about the _Breach_. And there’s the threat of the perpetrator still being out there _somewhere_!” Cassandra added, glaring at her. “We cannot let his decision affect our cause! We swore that we would put an end to this madness, and it absolutely _cannot_ stop simply because he wills it so!”

“You speak as if you’re confident that he would leave.” Leliana responded, leveling her with a cool glare. “Remember what Varric told us. We have to _trust_ him, make him feel valued because he _is_. And then, maybe, he’ll eventually learn to trust us in return. Isn’t that important?”

“I— _Yes_ , that is important! But what if he—“

“ _Trust_ , Cassandra. And faith.” The redhead interrupted, but she sounded more gentle this time. She placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder and added, “We have to have faith in him, my friend. We have to believe that he would see that only _he_ can do this. I personally believe that he would not leave.”

“How so?” Cullen asked quietly, brows meeting in the middle.

“The Herald is kind. And he thinks of others before himself.” Leliana repeated the words Varric said to them in the War Room before U’Din came back. “It shows in his actions and in his words. He would always value the lives of others before his, hence my doubt in him simply leaving.”

“That’s— _true_.” Cassandra relented quietly. She turned away as she recalled a recent memory. “He was absolutely distraught when we couldn’t save the mages and the templars in the Hinterlands. Not to mention, he went out of his way to help refugees who required assistance. He is definitely a kind and pure-hearted person.”

“He _is_ a sweetheart, isn’t he?” Josephine added wistfully. “I heard he personally makes you and the others armor, Cassandra. To the point of slaving away in the forge all day and night. What dedication! And the servants have mentioned him helping out when he has free time.”

“Herald U’Din is helping the _servants_?” Cullen sounded surprised, but not in a bad way.

“Normally, I would not approve of him looking like a servant when he’s the Herald of Andraste but,” Josephine paused, smiling softly at the thought. “It shows that he is humble. Very much so.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile as well. “He does make us armor. The finest kind. And as for helping the servants... I have no doubt that that is something he would do. The man is selfless, caring and also quite intelligent and skilled. Which is why I’m so bothered that he’s just so... _unsure_ of himself! I don’t understand why he lacks so much confidence when he accomplishes so much!”

“Perhaps something _else_ happened during his upbringing?” Josephine brought up, furrowing her eyebrows worriedly. “I don’t want to pry into the Herald’s business again, but his demeanor troubles me greatly. Such a kind soul. I can’t imagine what had happened to cause him to act in such a way.”

“That is a matter of concern, indeed.” Leliana agreed, furrowing her brows. She turned to Josephine. “Josie, do you have contacts in the colleges in Orlais? I assume you do.”

The Ambassador blinked, but nodded. “Yes. I also have my contacts in Antiva, as well as a few in Nevarra and Ferelden. Why do you ask?”

“I’ll tell you later. I have... a theory about the Herald’s behavior.” She answered vaguely. “But going back to our topic: we’ll let him decide until the templars arrive. No one is to ask him about it until then.”

“I feel like we’re coddling him. We’re not _supposed_ to do that.” Cullen grumbled, though it was without malice. He scratched the back of his head. “Oh, Maker, why couldn’t he have been a bit more... _normal_?”

“It is too late for that, Commander. U’Din is the Herald we have now, and belittling him isn’t going to help neither of us.”

“That’s true. But I just wished he was easier to handle.” Cullen admitted, folding his arms over his chest. “We already have the threat of the Breach and the one who caused it. Now we have to walk on eggshells around the Herald as well? Because he’s _sensitive_? It’s not the bloke’s fault at all, but this—this is _frustrating_.”

“His attitude is definitely something we will look into, but for now we must have patience. And faith.” Leliana said. She turned to the door and frowned.

Faith had disappointed her before. She hoped it wouldn’t this time around.

 

* * *

 

U’Din closed the door behind him clumsily and took in a deep breath. The owl crooned next to his ear, as if trying to comfort him. The blond sighed and stroked its chest with his finger. He was about to walk away from the room when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“My dear Herald!” He turned to see Vivienne approaching him, tall and elegant as usual. She gave him a sympathetic look. “My dear, I heard about what happened at Therinfal. It’s unfortunate that you had to go through that dreadful affair; are you all right?”

“L-Lady Vivienne,” He began, smiling nervously. _Shoot_. Of all the people he had to thank, he had to meet Vivienne first! How was he going to talk to her? He wasn’t prepared! He settled with bowing first. “I’m—I’m okay. Thank you for asking. And also... thank you for a while ago. I heard that you spoke to Cassandra and the others and stood up for me. I can’t begin to describe how grateful I am to you.”

“Darling, it is of no concern. I simply couldn’t handle the ignorance.” The enchanter said. She waved a hand and started walking away, and U’Din took that as a sign to follow her. “After a run-in with a demon and successfully salvaging the rest of the templar order, you should be lauded for your bravery and quick-thinking. I do say, that was quite impressive.”

U’Din blushed and looked at the ground. “G-Gee. You don’t have to flatter me too much, Lady Vivienne. I know I didn’t do everything right. But it means a lot that you think so.”

“I _know_ so, darling. After Therinfal, you’ve earned quite a bit of my respect.” They arrived at her desk, and she turned to give him a charming smile. “I don’t admire a lot of people, so you should be proud, my dear.”

“I can imagine, Lady Vivienne.” U’Din said quietly.

“Quite. And—oh, is that your pet?” She pertained to the owl perched on his shoulder. “I’ve never seen it before. It looks positively _darling_!”

The owl hooted and puffed out its chest, as if it could understand every word being said. U’Din smiled and stroked its chest again. “It’s not mine, actually. It just... appeared. Here in the Chantry. I don’t know why it’s following me, actually.”

“Is that so? Well,” The enchanter sat down in her chair, and she gestured towards another chair just close by. After U’Din sat down rather clumsily, she laughed behind her hand. “Goodness, darling, you don’t have to act so nervous. I didn’t wish to talk to you to intimidate you to death.”

“Then, um, why _did_ you want to talk to me, Lady Vivienne?” He asked. The owl hopped on top of the seat, then used that to jump on top of his head. He glanced at the owl briefly before turning his gaze back to the human mage.

“Simply to congratulate you on a job well done regarding the templars. And also, get to know you a bit.” She said rather vaguely, smiling sweetly at him. “Is that fine?”

“Of—Of course.” U’Din answered, shifting in his seat. Vivienne’s eyes focused on his posture. “But, um, I’m not taking too much of your time? You probably have more important things to do.”

“Naturally, my dear. But I could use a little break.” She said, briefly turning towards her desk. “And speaking with you is most pleasant. I do appreciate your inquisitive mind, my dear. Perhaps you can find time to entertain mine, as well.

“The Breach has done more than just disfigure the sky. The Veil itself is broken, and now all mages are in danger of drawing demons to them. No matter how skilled, they must tread carefully from now on. You agree, do you not?”

“I do.” U’Din answered sincerely. He settled more comfortably in his chair. “That’s partly the reason why I suggested to approach the templars first. They have the ability to suppress magic, and with their skills they likely can decrease the power of the Breach. Also, they’re more practical soldiers.”

“Indeed. Before this crisis is over, you may find that templars, flawed as they may be, are all that stand between us and chaos.” Vivienne nodded. “Magic is dangerous just as _fire_ is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets _burned_.”

U’Din blinked. The way she spoke about magic... it was as if she hated it. The blond agreed with her, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel like she had meant something else with that statement. He probably shouldn’t pry, though; he didn’t want to get on _Vivienne’s_ bad side as well. Instead he just nodded, and the way she smiled made him think that he did the right thing.

“Tell me something, my dear.” She tilted her head and looked at him with interest. “As you will, without a doubt, have a hand in shaping it, what future do you see for mages?”

“In regards to... what, exactly?” U’Din asked carefully, not fully understanding what she meant by her inquiry. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with mage culture outside Dalish culture. Do you mean that generally?”

“After the Circles fell, mages have been put under negative scrutiny. Much more than before. The Conclave was supposed to attempt to remedy the situation, but it ended up causing more tragedies. From our current standpoint, the future of mages seems rather bleak.” She expounded. “I’m simply curious what you will do about that, or if you even plan to do anything about it. You, yourself, are a mage. What future do you see for us?”

The blond tapped on his chin as he thought about it. He honestly had only a tiny idea about what mage culture was like for the shems; the mage apprentice Minaeve taught him a little one time. From what he knew, they constructed those massive towers and kept the mages there. He thought it was a good idea to give mages a safe place to practice their craft, but what troubled him was that mages ended up being abused and feared anyway.

Mother Giselle spoke to him about the Chantry’s views on magic: that it was supposed to serve man, not rule over him. He didn’t believe in the shem’s religion, but he understood the logic behind that. However, if that was the case, why was there so much stigma attached to magic? Did the Chantry not teach its followers about it? How come everyone seemed so ignorant and prejudiced against it?

His eyes widened in realization, and he looked up at the enchanter. “Lady Vivienne, are there... _mages_ in the Chantry?”

The dark-skinned mage blinked at him, briefly stunned. Then she pondered on it. “I... do not recall there being an instance where mages were allowed in the Chantry. Why do you ask, my dear?”

“It’s just—mages know magic the best, right?” U’Din began. When the enchanter nodded, he continued, “I just figured that the reason why mages suffer from so much stigma is ignorance, which then turns into hate and fear. If there was a mage representative in every Chantry to teach the followers about magic, people would learn the dangers and advantages of the craft. And thus, there would be more acceptance. Or at least friendly tolerance.”

“A _curious_ idea.” Vivienne sounded enlightened, _pleased_. “Such twists and turns your mind takes. Hm, hm, that is definitely something to consider, my dear. And I am pleasantly surprised that the idea came from you—a supposed outsider, one who has not benefitted from Circle education.”

“Um... _thanks_?” U’Din gave her a half-smile, not really sure how to feel. Personally, he had _no_ desire to be educated at a tower. The security attracted him, but from what he’d heard about how mages were treated in the Circles, he’d rather be free. “But you know, it’s just an idea. I mean, it’s probably stupid because I don’t—“

“Oh dear, it’s not _stupid_ at all. I find your answer very refreshing. And _intriguing_.” Vivienne said good-naturedly. “It made me more confident about the future, darling. Perhaps you can steer our lives out of this tragedy, after all.”

U’Din shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away. “Gee, I dunno if it’s worth having so much confidence in me, Lady Vivienne. I’m just... me. I was the Second in my clan; not really meant to do anything special. It’s already a miracle that I became some sort of herald, but to... shape the future for mages, as you said? I dunno if I can do that.”

“Well, I have absolute _faith_ that you can, my dear. You’ve delivered the templars, saved them, and now you’re close to sealing the Breach.” Vivienne encouraged him. “It won’t do well to second-guess yourself now, my dear. People won’t have faith in you if _you_ don’t have faith in yourself.”

“I never had to have faith in myself, Lady Vivienne. All I had to do was not mess up.” The blond admitted quietly.

“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself, my dear. We only have ourselves in the end, after all.” Vivienne said, and the way she spoke made it seem like it was something more personal than simple comforting words. But before U’Din could think more about that, the enchanter put on another friendly smile. “Speaking of, I must say I know very little of you. All I know is that you’re quite the expert craftsman. Was that your role in your little clan?”

The reminder of his clan made his chest constrict painfully, but it also summoned some confidence since it was a topic he knew something about. He nodded. “Yes. I learned under our craftswoman, Master Alayna. She made me her apprentice.”

“She must be quite the craftswoman for you to be able to do _this_.” Vivienne gestured to her coat—elegantly made with silk and laminated nugskin leather. It was mostly Orlesian in style, but U’Din sneaked in a few Dalish influences here and there, mostly with the way he lined the cloth.

He smiled. “It took me a while to make your coat, though. I had to ask Lady Josephine for some books on Orlesian fashion. The schematics I had were all Dalish designs.”

Vivienne looked stunned. “You... read about Orlesian fashion. Just for _me_?”

“Of course. I thought you’d like it better if you wore something you liked, Lady Vivienne. And I do believe Orlesian-style fashion suits you more.”

“That’s—Oh, you are such a _darling_!”

They talked about more lighthearted things for a while, most of which were centered on clothes, Orlesian culture and Vivienne’s career from her humble beginnings to her eventual position as Enchanter of the Imperial Court. The blond was honestly fascinated by her stories, and he had been so entertained that he momentarily forgot about his problems. She promised to take him to her estate again someday; he _must_ experience a party for pleasure and not business like last time. U’Din just indulged her by agreeing.

By the end of their chat, U’Din decided that Vivienne wasn’t so intimidating after all. A bit of a snob, sure, but she was a good person. U’Din thought she was, anyway. He hummed as he looked back to briefly observe the coat he made for her. How difficult to make were hennins, he wondered. He should probably read that book on Orlesian fashion again. For reference.

Vivienne watched him leave the Chantry, eyes narrowed slightly in contemplation. She looked back at the chair he sat in and thought about his posture. She hummed.

Lessons from Josephine, perhaps? She wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um yeah. That was rather lame, wasn't it? OTL Gahh, I dunno, guys. I tried my best. The scene about the Keeper's parcel was strangely hard to write (AND EDIT). But I think I managed to convey the emotions well enough? Err. Idk. Also, the part with Vivienne was a last-minute add-in, but I felt it was important to include it here. I do hope I wrote her okay. OTL OH BTW, THE OWL IS NOT RANDOM. :)) Please don't think I just added the owl randomly for mascot purposes lol. You guys will have to see XD
> 
> What happens next chapter is undecided. I dunno if I'll include the Haven attack or whatever. I probably will, knowing me OTL Or maybe it's gonna be a bonding chapter with companions. Or more missions in other places. Idk, I have an outline but I've been deviating from it recently. Oh, and speaking of outline! I just finished outlining this story. :)) Aaaand now I'm outlining... the sequel. OTL HAHAHAHA IKR THIS HAS A SEQUEL. Two, actually, because I can't friggin' decide what ending I'm going with. Please help me, I need a life :((
> 
> Once again, thanks so much for taking the time to readdd! And also for leaving comments and kudos! AND WOW, WE REACHED 100k WORDS. AND WE'RE STILL IN HAVEN MY GAD. OTL Sorry! But I'm glad people are liking this so far. Here's hoping I keep at it until the end. Love you guys so much~!


	17. Escapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno whether to consider this an interlude or not... but oh well. Whatevs. :)) Sorry for updating again so fast. OTL I get too excited because half of this story is already written out; I just need to edit. And I have lots of free time right now so here you go. Sorry. XD
> 
> Note: Not beta'd. Will correct mistakes later on. Also, please talk to me on my [Tumblr](http://prodigal-san-returns.tumblr.com/). I'm lonely 8(

_He smiled as he watched his men practice in the training field, honing their skills in the art of fighting. They were passionate, serious—but most importantly, they were doing it for a cause. He was about to join them when he heard someone call out to him, and he turned to see his right hand man accompanying a messenger wearing a black owl’s crest. He listened to the messenger, his smile fading with every word that left the woman’s mouth._

_He took the scroll from her hands and read the symbols that carried the order from his superior. He closed the scroll and turned to see that some of his men had gathered around him, looking at him expectantly. Worriedly._

_He forced a smile and told them it was going to be all right. It was... his duty, after all. And there was no escaping duty._

 

* * *

 

When U’Din woke up the next morning, it took a lot of effort to get up from bed. He could hear the early birds chirping and the hustle and bustle from the settlement, yet he remained supine, staring at the ceiling like all the answers were engraved on the wooden beams. He stayed like that for a long time, tossing and turning, and only stopping when the moving made his bare left arm hurt. So he stayed on his back, staring at the ceiling again. He only thought of getting up when his stomach made a painful little spasms a while later.

And even then, he didn’t go out of his hut. He just stayed there, staring into space.

He sighed and went to open a window. The sky was bright blue, and layers of green light from the Breach mixed with it. From what he could tell, it was around noon. No wonder he was hungry. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He trudged back to his bed and flopped on it face-first, not willing to do anything at all that day. He tapped on the headboard, making random beats. And composing another song. It’s been a long time since he played his ocarina, and an even longer time since he sang. But there were no crying children to lull to sleep to around here. The thought reminded him of things he’d rather not think about, so he started thinking about random things. Why was the sky blue? Who made the first shoe? How did people deal with magic in the old days?

When his stomach made another painful flip, he groaned and buried his head into the pillow. Didn’t the world understand that he wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with reality right now? He was trying to ignore everything, dammit!

U’Din sat up and held his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth while looking at the covers with a helpless, worried expression on his face. For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?! He was doing his best to escape from reality, but it kept coming back to him! Like his hunger, the guilt kept coming back till he had no choice but to stop whatever he was doing! Why couldn’t he _relax_ a bit for once? So he even failed at _that_ now?!

He let out a slow, deep breath. Okay, he had to stop thinking about it. He was given... a few days to think about it, right? He could probably use one or two of those days just doing nothing. He’ll just worry about making his decision at the last minute. Even though he _wanted_ to do that, he frowned at the idea—that... wouldn’t be right. Not when the fate of the world apparently rested on his hands.

 _‘Well,_ hand _.’_ He thought, looking at his mark. He didn’t wear his gauntlet at night, so the agitated veins and strange green markings were on display for him to see. The shards were still jutting out, and he couldn’t help but feel queasy looking at them. Just... what were they?! Why were they growing out of his skin? It was like he was a pot of soil, decomposing and providing nutrients for whatever was growing on him. And speaking of decomposing... his left arm felt really heavy and weak as of late.

Okay, no. He wasn’t going to think about the mark. He’ll think of other things instead. Hm, what to think, what to think—oh! His wounds! He was supposed to change the dressing. The blond groaned at the thought, but if it would distract him for a while, he decided to do it. He got out of his bed and went over to the desk where his satchel was.

Then he let out a pained yelp when his foot stubbed something. Holy shit, what was a fucking _crate_ doing in his—

He looked down at the crate and blinked. He looked further up and realized there were _more_ crates lined up. He blinked even more. How... long have they been in his hut? He never noticed them until now. He was about to ignore them when he saw something familiar in one of the boxes. His eyes widened, and he knelt down in front of one and inspected the contents. Most of them were wrapped, but he saw something from the other crate, so he leaned a bit to grab it.

It was ironbark. It was honest to goodness _ironbark_.

This must have been the stuff Leliana mentioned that the Keeper sent him. She must have had someone put the crates in his hut. He put the ironbark back in the other crate and went back to the one he was kneeling in front of. He took a random wrapped object, and he heard ceramics clinking in the thin cloth. He unknotted the rope and saw small, sealed pots. He opened one and found it contained dark brown paste.

It was the salve the Keeper and Ellana often made for his wounds.

Further inspection made him realize that the Keeper had sent quite a few things to him. She sent him his other clothes—he rejoiced. _Finally_ , no more gold!—more salves, the nice-smelling serum for his hair, some ironbark— _yes!_ —and a few other materials that he used a lot back at the clan. He noticed that the Keeper had sent him a few ores of dawnstone and silverite, and he wondered why she would send him so many things. Then it hit him.

She... must have wanted him to make equipment to help him go home. He moved away from the crates and sighed, groaning when he felt that irritating stomach flip again.

What was he doing? Why was he having so much trouble making a decision? It was simple! All he had to do was decide whether to go home and pretend nothing was wrong with the world _or_ stay with the Inquisition, risk failure but probably, maybe help people along the way. He made a helpless noise, scratching his head—yeah, _simple_.

He sighed in frustration and shook his head. He stood up with the small pot of salve in his hands and placed it on top of the desk rather angrily. When he realized he was out of bandage, he let out a frustrated cry and kicked the desk a few times, cursing loudly, and then sat on his haunches, rocking back and forth.

He didn’t know what to do. He really didn’t. He was _fucked_. So fucking _fucked_ and he didn’t know what to do about it. _Fuck_!

U’Din sighed and sat on the floor, and he ended up sitting next to the crate. He looked at it once, then decided to look at the contents again. Just to waste time. He saw something squeezed between two wrapped objects, and he squinted at it. He pulled it out and realized it was a rope necklace. But not just any rope necklace.

He stood up and walked to his desk where his satchel was lying on. He opened the flap and took out his ocarina, then hooked the necklace to it. The blond held the necklace in front of him before wearing it around his neck. The ocarina was now on his chest, free for everyone to see. Beautifully dark with white streaks, accented with purple crystals, glowing a little green like it usually di—

U’Din gasped and held the instrument close to his face to inspect it. He turned it around and almost dropped it in alarm. What—What the fuck?! Why was it glowing? It didn’t do that before! What could have ha—

_A new place to live._

He was about to take it off him when he heard a knock at his door.

 _“U’Din?”_ Came a familiar baritone from the other side of the door. _“U’Din, I’m here to check on your mark.”_

U’Din blinked. Solas? He walked to the door and opened it slightly to see the hedge mage outside. The other elf blinked at the way the blond looked like.

“Are you all right? You seem unwell.” He said, brows furrowing in concern. “Are your injuries troubling you again?”

“That’s—“ The blond looked around his hut before shaking his head. “N-No. I’m okay. I just... woke up.”

“...Really? At this hour?” Solas asked dubiously, coming inside when U’Din stepped back to let him in. “Does that mean you haven’t eaten yet, then?”

The thought of food made the blond almost salivate, but he wasn’t really in the mood to go out and eat. He waved a hand dismissively and said, “It’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”

Solas narrowed his eyes at him, like he didn’t believe a word U’Din said. He took in the blond’s haggard appearance one more time before deciding to leave it be. For now. “Very well. Let’s take a look at your—what’s all this?”

He was referring to the crates in his room, and now U’Din really wondered why he didn’t notice those the first time he got out of bed. The blond scratched his head and said, “My Keeper sent them to me. Lady Leliana had them brought here to my hut.”

“Your Keeper sent you all this?” Solas asked. When U’Din nodded, he posed another question, “Did you contact her, then? I wasn’t aware.”

“I didn’t. _They_ did.” U’Din said sullenly, still very sore about the subject. He sighed and added, “The shems... made contact with my clan without telling me. They found out which clan was mine by researching the herbs they got from my satchel the first time, and after that they sent scouts. I heard it didn’t end well, though.”

“You mean the advisors?” The hedge mage asked, frowning. “Why would they wish to contact your clan without your knowledge?”

“They said they wanted me to like them or something.” The blond answered. At Solas’ blank stare, he shrugged helplessly. “I don’t get the logic either, hahren! Don’t look at me like that. They said they wanted to make _peace_ or something. But the Keeper didn’t like that at all. She’s nice usually, but Keeper Istimaethoriel has dealt with forceful shems in the past. At least, that’s what Mahanon told me.”

“Did she... kill the scouts?”

“Lady Leliana said she let them go. And I guess that’s how she was able to send me all of these things.” U’Din said, looking at the crates. He walked to his satchel and added, “She also sent me a letter. My Keeper.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

U’Din took out the folded letter in his hands and thought about showing it to Solas. He vaguely remembered Solas asking him if he knew how to read written Elvhen before, so that probably meant that the older elf knew how to read it, too. But maybe he just knew what it looked like? And did he even _want_ Solas to read the letter in the first place?

He decided that he didn’t really care. He walked back to Solas and handed him the letter. The older elf looked at him inquisitively before taking the piece of paper, unfolding it to read it. While Solas read, U’Din went back to inspect the crates. Maybe his Keeper sent him a few rolls of bandages along with— _aha_ , she did!

“Your Keeper wishes you to return.” Solas said behind him. He heard paper being folded. “Have you decided what to do? She expects a reply, and the next full moon is pretty soon.”

U’Din shrugged, not bothering to answer the other elf. He just focused on changing his bandages. He went back to the desk and placed the few rolls of bandage there and opened the little pot full of gritty paste. He removed the sleeping tunic provided by the Inquisition and threw it on the floor. Then, he started removing the old bandages to start replacing them.

“U’Din.” He heard Solas appear beside him, but he ignored the other mage in favor of his task. The man sighed. “U’Din, please don’t avoid this. This is a very important decision, and you can’t dally in making it.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.” The blond mumbled. He took off the bandage on his right hand first, looking at the black bruises and dead flesh he was covering. He apologized for the slight smell before scooping up a bit of the salve. When he applied it on the troubled areas, he sighed in relief.

Oh, yeah. He felt that one.

While he worked on his wounds, Solas was eyeing his hand in shock. That... was decaying flesh! The smell was enough of an indicator. He gripped U’Din’s wrist and realized that he could even see the knucklebone of U’Din’s middle finger, barely covered by a thin layer of decaying skin. He exclaimed, “U’Din, what is this?! Is this what your other wounds look like?”

“I dunno. And some aren’t this bad. I told you it was always like this, right?” The blond said, shrugging. He didn’t notice Solas looking at him like he was insane. “The Keeper tried finding out what was wrong, but she couldn’t. All she and Ellana could do was make this salve to keep the wounds from spreading.”

“It _spreads_?!”

“Um. Yeah.” U’Din faltered a bit, then he winced. _Fuck_ , he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Him and his big mouth. “B-But it’s okay. It doesn’t spread fast. And the salve keeps it dormant for a few weeks. That’s why I didn’t worry too much when I didn’t bring some on my way to the Frostbacks.”

“And _after_ you became the Herald of Andraste? After you became a member of the Inquisition?” Solas persisted, frowning at him disapprovingly. “You say this wound spreads, and that it can only be treated by this salve—“

“Not treated. It just stops it for a while.”

“ _My mistake then._ It can only be temporarily halted by this salve, and from what you’ve told me, I can guess that you have to do this at least once or twice a month. You were aware that you would be staying with the Inquisition for an indefinite period of time, so surely you had a plan to procure this salve eventually?”

U’Din paused his movements to think about what his hahren said. He... had a point, actually. The blond had been so preoccupied with Inquisition errands that he never really thought about the salve. He only replaced the bandages, but the salve had totally slipped his mind. How stressed had he been that he forgot about _that_?

But it’s not like it mattered now. The wound on his right hand did spread a bit, sure, but... it’s not like he could do anything about it. The Keeper told him his wounds would most likely consume him eventually. Even _with_ the salve.

He sighed. Now that he thought about it, he should probably just leave his wounds alone and not do anything about them anymore. There was no point. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable. Back with the clan, he had the kids, master Alayna and all his clansmen to motivate him to _maybe_ try and survive. But now?

 _The world_ , said Big and Noisy. He shook his head.

“I actually forgot about it until now.” He admitted, ignoring the frustrated sigh from Solas. “I probably would have noticed, though. They start to hurt a bit when they spread too much. And the smell gets worse. So I probably would have done something about it by that time.”

“You’re saying that you wouldn’t act until your wounds have worsened then? Are you _insane_?”

The accusation made U’Din defensive, and he turned to glare at Solas. “Why do you _care_ so much, hahren?! What do you care if my wounds spread, anyway?! I’m the only one affected by them!”

“Because _you’re_ the only one who can seal the Breach!” Solas raised his voice. “You’re being irresponsible, U’Din! And your indifference to your sickness is appalling! Do you not care about yourself? Need I remind you what would happen if you _die_ before sealing the Breach?”

The blond clenched his fist and turned away, biting his lip. He wanted to lash out and say that he knew. He fucking _knew_ , dammit! That’s why he promised to stay until he sealed the Breach. That was his only use anyway, right? There were still rifts scattered around Thedas, sure, but he didn’t _have_ to stay with the Inquisition to help with that, did he? He would only mess things up; it was pointless for him to stay.

And about his wounds. He wanted to laugh and say that him being indifferent or not didn’t matter because he was going to _die_ anyway, no matter what he did! So why waste effort? He only delayed the inevitable for the benefit of others, but he saw no point in finding a cure for himself. If one even existed. His wounds didn’t heal; potions, healing spells and ointments didn’t work on him. Only the salve Ellana and the Keeper did something, but it only stopped the decaying process. This sickness, this _curse_ —it was nothing anyone had ever seen. There was no cure. He was going to _die_. End of story.

The only thing he found frustrating about that was WHY COULDN’T HE JUST DIE RIGHT NOW?

“U’Din, desist!”

He blinked back to reality, and he turned to see that his mark was glowing again. He sighed and shook the tension away, and the mark slowly stopped reacting to his emotions. He turned away from Solas and ran a hand through his hair.

“S-Sorry, hahren. I got a little carried away.” He apologized quietly. He took the small pot and a roll of bandage and went over to the bed. “Anyway, I don’t want to waste too much of your time. You wanted to look at the mark, right? Let’s do it while the sun is still up.”

“U’Din, don’t change the subject!” Solas chastised him, though he followed the blond to the bed. He briefly watched as U’Din sat and focused on wrapping his right hand with the bandage, and then he glared at the blond’s bowed head. “You did not answer my question. You absolutely _cannot_ die before sealing the Breach and the countless tears scattered around Thedas! Do you even—“

“It’s none of your business, hahren!” U’Din barked, eyes flashing as he looked up at him. “Just drop it and check the fucking mark like you’re supposed to!”

The hut was silent. Solas and U’Din stared at each other, both glaring and angry. But eventually Solas backed down first, and he sighed and looked away.

“You... are obviously not yourself. Perhaps I should give you a few moments of peace. I apologize for intruding.” He inclined his head stiffly and turned away to leave U’Din alone.

The sight of Solas’ back made U’Din’s chest constrict painfully. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed onto the elf’s sleeve to keep him from walking away. “W- _Wait_! Hahren, don’t go!”

Solas didn’t say anything, but he stopped walking. After a few moments, he turned his head over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at U’Din. The blond faltered at the look and made a small noise.

“I’m sorry, hahren. I really am. I’m just—“ He let go of Solas’ sleeve and rubbed a hand down his face. He let his hand drop on his lap and shrugged helplessly. “I just don’t know what to do. I really don’t. All I want is to disappear, or wake up from this horrible nightmare. I just... I _can’t_...” He trailed off, not knowing what words to say. He felt the bed dip beside him, and he turned his eyes to see Solas staring at him with a conflicted expression on his face.

“Why do you not care about your wounds? Why do you not wish to speak about them?” He asked quietly, and the topic made U’Din turn his head away. “I am not a fool, U’Din. I know that you do not wish to talk about the subject, and that makes me question whether you really don’t know anything about your sickness or are simply feigning ignorance. Which is it, lethallin?”

The term made U’Din look up at him with wide eyes. “Did you just—“

“We haven’t known each other long, U’Din, but I have grown to care for you as a friend. I said as much yesterday, didn’t I?” The man smiled briefly before frowning. “Which is why it troubles me that you care so little about yourself, if at all.”

The blond dropped his head, and he mumbled something. Solas didn’t catch it, so his frown deepened when he asked, “What was that, U’Din?”

“...Because there’s no point.” The Dalish elf sat up straighter and turned to the older elf. “I don’t know what this sickness is—or curse, whatever. I don’t know where I got it or how it could be cured, but I do know that it’s something that I cannot stop. The Keeper told me that it would eventually consume me one day. The salves just delay the process. But I will die from the decomposition.”

“ _What_? U’Din, you—we must look into this! The Inquisition has contacts with healers around the world. They can have someone look at your wounds—“

“There’s no _point_ , hahren. Healing spells don’t work on _me_.” U’Din cut him off, his voice becoming rough. “The salve you used yesterday didn’t do anything. The healing potions I keep bringing on missions don’t do anything for me either; I just bring them in case any of you need them. Whatever healing techniques you use on me won’t work. I know because _I_ use healing spells, and they all work on everyone but me.”

“So you’ve given up? Is that it?” Solas persisted. “You would give up the chance to find a cure simply because _you_ believe that nothing would work?”

“I just don’t see the point.” U’Din repeated, knotting the bandage on his right hand. He was about to touch the bruise on his mark arm, but he thought against it. Instead, he fiddled with the bandage around his stomach. “It’s not like I’m going to die soon. Unless, you know, something bad happens. These wounds won’t kill me for a while. And we’ll probably be done with the Breach by then.”

“...Do you hear yourself, U’Din? You sound as if you don’t care about your life at all.”

 _‘Maybe.’_ He thought. He didn’t want to kill himself or anything like that, but if it _did_ happen... he wasn’t going to fight it. He really didn’t see the point of him staying alive other than helping other people, and he knew he did a lousy job at that. He could care less about himself. It’s other people that mattered. After all, _the Living can wait, the Dead won’t._

Solas watched as U’Din applied the strange salve to the decaying skin on his stomach and chest. The hedge mage sighed and clenched his fists, wondering what he could say to the blond to make him see reason. U’Din was needed to close the Breach. But more than that, U’Din was... his friend. A person he respected. The idea of having a friend troubled him, considering _who_ he was and what he planned, but like he thought before, there was just _something_ about U’Din that drew him.

If he were any other elf, Solas would probably be indifferent. But he wasn’t. Solas was going to find out why and _how_ he was different from the ignorant, barely real elves of today, but right now the ancient elf needed to convince U’Din to care about himself a little more. And to stay even after closing the Breach.

The thought of U’Din leaving troubled him greatly, and that in itself was a troublesome thought as well.

“U’Din, I’ve mentioned how much of a brilliant elf you are, yes?” He attempted. When U’Din just looked at him, he tried one more time. “You’ve accomplished a lot the past few months. All for the good of the world. You like helping people, don’t you? Do you not see that what you’re doing is exactly that?”

“...I do. But I’m not doing a very good job at it, I think.”

“You’re not doing a good job at it? Are you _blind_?” Solas asked, honestly perplexed by the blond’s thinking. Just how lowly did he think of himself? “Remember those refugees you helped feed and clothed? That elven couple, that elven widow? Remember Master Dennet and his family? And what about the templars? The uncorrupted ones all _survived_. Thanks to you.”

“Yeah, but remember the casualties from me deciding to take the mountain pass? What about us having to kill the mages and the templars in the Hinterlands? Or the scouts that died in the Storm Coast because I didn’t respond to Scout Harding’s report fast enough?”

“U’Din, you’re nitpicking.”

“So what? A death is a death. I failed to prevent it, therefore I failed, period. Isn’t it that simple?” U’Din frowned as he finished applying salve on his most recent wound. He reached for the bandage that rolled away, and he thanked Solas when the older elf handed it to him. “It doesn’t really matter what good I do because the mistakes I’ve made negate them. If I can’t do a perfect job, I’m not worth this role the shems have bestowed upon me. Heck, I probably don’t even deserve to be Second.”

“You’re being extremely hard on yourself. It is perfectly all right to make mistakes.”

“Not when a life is involved, hahren. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and it does mean a lot that you think I’m doing a good job. But,” U’Din tied the bandage around his middle. “I just can’t help but feel worthless. You know?”

“So your self-appointed worthlessness is why you refuse to value your own life?”

“If I don’t do a good job helping, I’m just a waste of space.” U’Din missed the way Solas looked pained when he made that statement. The blond chuckled mirthlessly and removed the bandage around his right shoulder next. “You know, the First of my clan said that I became Second because I’m not good enough to be First. And that if there had been another mage in the clan, _they_ would have been Second, not me. I would have been tossed out thereafter. I’m that worthless, that weak. She calls me a wimp. And a deadweight, if she’s angry enough.”

“...Your First must be a cruel person to say all those things to you, U’Din. From what I’ve seen of you, they’re not true at all.”

“Yeah, well, she knows me better than anyone else. So she must be right.” He said, eyes going a little teary at the thought of Ellana. He really did miss her, even though she was very unkind to him. He probably did because long ago, she was the exact opposite. He turned to Solas and gave him a sad smile. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better, hahren, but I really don’t see the point of looking for a cure. We would all die eventually, so I see no reason to avoid the inevitable. I’ll probably just keep using the salve while I’m needed. But after that, I’ll just wait. That’s all I did back at the clan.

“I still don’t know if I’m going to stay after closing the Breach.” U’Din admitted quietly, softly. “But if you think I can help... I’ll think about it. I’ll do my best to do good, even though I would probably fail anyway.”

The defeated look on U’Din’s face made Solas feel something he had never felt since waking up after thousands of years in uthenera: sorrow. Pure, absolute _sorrow_.  He could feel the blond’s helplessness and resignation coming out in waves, causing the ancient elf to feel extremely sympathetic. And also... feel like reaching out.

U’Din froze when Solas reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear. The blond blinked at the other elf, not knowing what to make of the expression on Solas’ face. “H-Hahren?”

“I don’t think you can do good, U’Din. I _know_ that you can.” Solas said quietly, warmly. The tone of his voice sounded so different yet so welcoming. U’Din couldn’t help but stare as the man stared back with warm eyes. “Perhaps one day I can convince you to think the same. If you would let me.”

U’Din couldn’t speak. He was so stunned, so taken aback by the man’s words. Also, his hand was still on the side of the blond’s head, and U’Din could feel Solas fingers against his temple. His eyes focused on the man’s wrist, and he lifted his hand. He was so close to circling his hand around Solas’ wrist—

But then he faltered and turned away, berating himself for attempting to do that. Whatever _that_ was.

Solas blinked and retracted his hand, as if he too realized just what he was doing. He shifted on the bed and cleared his throat. “Well— _ahem_ —now, I... Are you done with your wounds?”

“Huh? Oh, um. Yeah. Just. My shoulder—“

“Let me help you with that.”

“...Thank you.”

U’Din let Solas wrap his shoulder with bandage, and all the while the two elves attempted to make eye contact but realized they couldn’t.

“Now that’s settled, let’s... take a look at your mark.” Solas began lamely, discarding the thin roll of bandage on the bed.

“O-Okay. Sure.” U’Din relented, also feeling awkward. His face also felt warm, which confused him to no end. He gave Solas his left arm. He didn’t even bother watching Solas looking at his arm. When he felt a sharp, painful prick, he turned to ask his hahren what the fuck that was but—

His stomach decided to growl. _Loud_. Both of them blinked.

“...U’Din.”

“...Yes, hahren?”

“You said you weren’t hungry. You didn’t lie to me again, did you?”

“...Um. No?”

 

* * *

 

“Not eating _anything_ is foolish, U’Din. You’re sick enough as it is; why make it worse by depriving yourself of food? What were you _thinking_?”

U’Din grumbled as Solas nagged at him, trudging towards the tavern to get something to eat. Solas hadn’t been pleased when he found out that U’Din hadn’t eaten when he was clearly hungry. U’Din tried to tell him that he wasn’t in the mood to eat, but the older elf wanted to hear none of it. So that’s why he was out dragging his feet in the cold ground because he _really_ didn’t want to do this.

But _nooo_ , Solas had to be “responsible” and force him to take some sustenance for his “health.” He looked over his shoulder to glare at the elf in question, imagining his bald head lit with veilfire as revenge. He then yelped when Solas pulled him a bit by the collar to straighten his back.

“U’Din, do not walk like that. It’s unbecoming of the Herald of Andraste.”

“I’m _not_ the Herald of Andraste. I’m just a nobody.” U’Din muttered under his breath, but obeyed anyway. He nodded and smiled at people who greeted him, but he quickly stopped pretending when he was sure no one would be able to see him.

He wasn’t in the mood to see people. It made him think about his decision-making even more, and it frightened him so much.

“And this is where we part. I have much to write for the report on your mark. Though I will definitely require you to visit me again tomorrow.” Solas said after they arrived at the tavern. He folded his arms behind him and gave U’Din a stern look. “If you conveniently forget again, I will just have to visit _you_ instead.”

U’Din sighed and nodded. He smiled at the other elf despite his awful mood. “Thanks for that, by the way. I know I should have gone to you instead but—“

“It is no trouble, U’Din. Just—take care of yourself.”

The man’s tone had become soft, and it instantly reminded U’Din of their little “moment” back in his hut. The blond reddened, looking away from Solas. “U-Um. Yeah. Okay. I’ll try.”

“Yes. Well.” It was Solas’ turn to feel awkward, though he was able to mask it much better than U’Din. He cleared his throat and inclined his head at the Herald, walking away.

“B-Bye.” U’Din waved his hand ineffectually at the man’s retreating back. When Solas vanished, he sighed and thought about just going back to his hut since the older elf wasn’t there to supervise him. He was actually about to do just that when—

_“Droopy!”_

He choked when he was suddenly pulled into a headlock. He made gagging noises as he and his assailant moved around; him struggling under the person’s weight. It felt too light to be a man, and the only woman he knew would do something like this to him was—

“S- _Sera_!” He managed to squeak out, flailing with his left arm while his right hand tried to get the other elf’s arm off of his neck. “S-Sera, what are you—“

“You little _pig shit_!” She screamed at him, jumping over his back and making him carry her weight. “I _told_ you to friggin’ _rest_ yesterday and what did you do?! You got yourself hurt again! Daft turd bucket! If you hadn’t done that thing back at Therinfal I wouldn’t have—“

“Sera, _please_!” U’Din begged frantically, “dancing” around as he tried to support the rogue elf’s weight on his back. He pivoted on one foot and landed with the other, hunching his back and breathing heavily. When Sera choked him again, he glared up at her, “What the _fuck_ are you doing, anyway?!”

“Teaching you a lesson! _That_ was for getting hurt again!” Sera said. Then she reached out and pulled the longer part of his hair. “And _that_ was for making me do shit!”

“What shit?! What—FUCK, NOT MY HAIR, SERA—did you do?!”

“Things. _More_ things. But I’m not telling you so joke’s on you.” Sera replied unhelpfully. She got off his back and, just when U’Din thought he was safe, she threw her arm around his neck and pointed at the tavern with her thumb. “But because of you I killed a lot of rams and stuff! And I gave the mutton to the tavern so they could cook it for me for _free_! Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure. Killing innocent animals for no reason at all is _cool_.” U’Din rubbed at the side of his head and smoothed out the little ponytail.

She waved a hand and blew a raspberry at him. She pulled him towards the pub. “It was your fault, Droopy. You shouldn’t have gotten yourself hurt like that and made me do things. But I guess this means we’re even, yeah?”

“Even? What do you mean _even_?” U’Din blinked as they entered the noisy tavern. He scrunched his nose up at the commotion, but didn’t argue when Sera forced him to sit down at one of the tables.

“Hey, Flissa! Get us something to eat, yeah? I’m starving!” Sera called out to the innkeeper. She turned back to U’Din and gave him a look. “Just _even_ , all right? No more talking about it.”

“But that’s— _fine_.” The blond mage relented, scratching his head in frustration. Man, Sera was _so_ annoying. Loud, crass, crude and—she stood up for him. U’Din looked at the elf tapping her fingers on the table, and he sighed.

“Hey, Sera.” He began, looking at his fingers. He saw her shift in his peripheral and looked up. “I was, um. I wanted to thank you for yesterday. For, you know, talking to the shems and standing up for me. You didn’t have to but—“

“Shems? What are you— _oh_ , you mean humans. Ugh, _elf words_.” She groused under her breath. The archer turned to him and made little gestures with her hand. “Listen. It was nothing, yeah? I’m mostly pissed at you, anyway. You’re stubborn and, apparently, a friggin’ crybaby. Grow a backbone, yeah? Next time you should just listen to me because when I say things, they’re right. You’re not. And like I said, we’re _even_. So there.”

“Um. _What_?” Sera’s speech pattern never really made sense to him, but he was able to catch the last part. He wondered what she meant when she mentioned that they were _even_ , and it was only after Flissa came into view with two plates did he realize. “ _Oh_ , did you mean what I did for you at Therinfal? Sera, I already told you: I would die befor—“

“Not. _Talking about it_.” She cut him off snippily, and then she lit up when Flissa placed a bowl of hot stew in front of her as well as a wooden spoon. “Oh, this looks great! Can I have some of yours, Droopy?”

U’Din snorted and thanked Flissa when she placed another bowl in front of him. He smiled uneasily when she said _it was no problem, Your Worship_. Ugh. He could never get used to that. Never would.

The blond mage stared at the hot food in front of him and almost salivated. He felt his stomach gurgling and gulped—wow, he was _famished_. He picked up the wooden spoon Flissa had provided him and scooped up some of the stew. He stared at the chopped up meat before lifting the spoon into his mouth. He froze.

Then he started attacking the bowl. Sera just stared at him in shock. But she took his enthusiasm for food as a challenge against _her_ enthusiasm for food.

“Oh _yeah_?” She picked up her bowl and started stuffing her face along with him. U’Din didn’t falter or even notice her taking on the “challenge.” He was so hungry that he barely registered anything else happening around him.

“ _More_!” They both shouted at the same time, lifting their bowls up in the air. Several patrons in the pub were looking at them, and Flissa just nodded her head silently behind the bar.

“Hahaha, that was _fun_!” Sera rejoiced, slamming the butt of her bowl on the table. U’Din did the same, just more properly and quietly. After belching and laughing about it, she turned to U’Din and said, “Didn’t know you were such a slob! Ha, ya know, you’re getting more and more—“

She cut herself off when she realized he wasn’t listening. Sera was about to tell him off for that, but the empty, sad look on U’Din’s face sobered her a bit. Her brows met in the middle as she tapped her fingers around the bowl uneasily.

“Hey. Arsebutt. Why do you look so bummed out?” The archer asked. She only paused when Flissa came by to give them their second bowls, and she only accepted hers half-heartedly. U’Din didn’t even notice his. “Your food’s gonna get cold. No point wasting something you asked for, yeah?”

U’Din sighed and reached for the bowl to put it in front of him, but he only got as far as picking up the wooden spoon and using it to stir the stew.

Sera frowned. “Hey, Droopy. You’re being droopier again. Stop it.”

“...Huh? Oh. Sorry.” He said distractedly, still staring into his bowl. He only took one bite of food before leaning against the table and covering his face with his hands. “Sorry. I’m _sorry_.”

“H-Hey, Droopy! What’s going on?” Sera asked, feeling a little panicky. “Y-You’re not... gonna _cry_ again, are you? Because—Ugh, frig, where’s Varric when you need him—“

“No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s just—“ U’Din was quick to placate her, forcing a smile. He dropped it and turned away. “It’s—It’s nothing. Just stupid things. Sorry for making you worry.”

“Well too late for that, yeah?” Sera grouched. She picked up her bowl and quickly downed the contents, making U’Din blink. She let out another loud burp before setting the bowl down and pushing it away from her. “Okay, I’m good. So, ‘fess up. What’s bothering that droopy head of yours?”

U’Din shook his head and said, “You don’t have to pretend to care, Sera. I—I appreciate you asking about it, but I don’t want to bother—“

“Like I said. _Too late for that_. You’re already bothering me with that sad, droopy look on your face. So either you tell me so I can make fun of you for it, _or_ you can get over it so we can eat and, I dunno, talk about funner things. Or something.”

Easier said than done, U’Din thought sadly. He scooped some stew and took a few bites as he thought about what Sera said. Should he tell her? He kinda didn’t want to, but not because he didn’t trust her or anything. Sera might have annoyed him a lot at first, but now it was like... she grew on him. And she stood up for him, so that was proof enough for him that she wasn’t as bad as he thought she was. He often compared her to Mahanon because they were so similar, and he was glad that she also had some of his good traits as well.

He felt sick again. He missed Mahanon, too, despite the fact that the hunter bothered him about courtship a lot. What was the point of that, anyway? It’s not like U’Din could give him a child or—

“Uh, _hello_? World to Droopy? Shiny, glowy Herald-thingy?”

“Hm?” U’Din looked up, blinking his eyes at Sera. The elf huffed at him.

“Don’t go doing that _staring into space_ thing and looking sad and shite so you could get out of this. So which is it? Are you gonna tell me, or are we going to eat because food. Is getting cold. _Colllddd_.”

The mage scratched his head and sighed. “I really don’t know where to start. I’m not even sure if you’re going to like this, anyway. I don’t want to bother you.”

“And you’re _already_ bothering me, I said. So you either tell me right now or you just shut up so we can eat.”

“It’s—It’s more complicated than that, Sera.”

“Uh, no it isn’t.”

“Yes, it _is_.”

Sera huffed. “Why? Because someone said it really loud, or something? Thought so.” She added the last part quickly when U’Din made a dumbfounded face. “See, you either feel bad or you don’t. You either want to talk about it or you don’t. And you’re either going to eat that, or _I_ will.”

“You know, you were going for a pattern there. And you ruined it.” U’Din said. Just to spite her, he pulled the bowl closer to him.

“Yeah, trust _me_ to go ruin things. Like supper.” She said sarcastically. Then she picked up the spoon and waved it at him. “And don’t change the subject. Tell me now or I’m going to throw this spoon at you. And _oh_ , you’re also going to tell me what’s up with that scar. And where’d you get those new elfy clothes? What’s that thing around your neck? Why are—“

“ _Sera_ ,” U’Din interrupted, giving her an imploring look. After she gave him an expectant, smug look, he sighed in frustration and leaned back in his chair. “Okay. _Fine_. You want me to tell you? I’m feeling down because the shems want me to decide soon whether I’m gonna stay or not after sealing the Breach. And this scar has been on my neck for as long as I could remember; I don’t remember how I got it. Also, these are the robes I usually wore as Second. My Keeper sent them to me. Also, this is my mother’s ocarina. I inherited it after my parents died.”

“Ah. Well—wait, _what_?” She practically screeched. “Y-You’re—You’re _leaving_? But—But you’re the shiny Herald-thingy! You can’t just—“

“I know, okay?! I fucking _know_!” U’Din hissed, and he was very fortunate that the tavern was loud again because people would find it weird if they saw the Herald of Andraste losing his shit. “I know I just can’t leave! But my Keeper wants me to come home! Master Alayna, the kids—one of the elderly might be in need of some help! Or, or maybe someone’s sick! It’s my duty as Second to do those things, and if my clan needs me—“

“But so does the _World_ , you turd for brains!” Sera argued back, gesturing with her hands. “Look, you wanna go back to your backwards, boring elfy life? Fine. But you gotta finish this first, you tit! You’re the _only_ one who can!

“You think you’re the only one who wants to go back to their old life? Well, guess what: you’re _wrong_. I want everything to get back to normal so I could play again! How can I go around killing baddies and messing with noble tits if that Breach thing is shitting out demons all the time? I don’t like this friggin’ mess either, but I’m going to keep doing this till all the demons go back to where they come from. Life getting back to normal is enough reason for _me_ to stay.

“What about you? I thought you cared about people. Are _you_ going to just leave and let everyone die while you go back to your shitty elfy life?”

U’Din drew back, stunned. Sera glared at him, and he had to look away to hide the shame on his face. The mage knew he was fucked when _Sera_ started making more sense than he did. People _were_ going to die if he just left. That was the truth, and it was the main reason he had to stay after sealing the Breach.

But he was so afraid. And so _torn_. He knew what the right thing to do was but he just didn’t know if he could do anything right! And the Keeper said the clan needed him back. What should he do?

U’Din shook his head and said, “Sera, I’m not like you. I’m not so confident about myself that I can just decide between two things so quickly like that.”

Sera frowned. “Why? You either stay or you don’t. You either care about people or you don’t. You care about people, so you should stay. That simple, yeah? Or are you just pretending to be nice all the time?” She accused, glaring at him.

The mage’s reaction was immediate. “Of course not! I’m just—“

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying. For the people. For the World. Then you can go back to your boring elfy clan life, and me to mine.”

“Sera, you’re not _listening_ to me—“

“Man, that was exhausting. Stupid talking. And _word_ things. You _owe_ me for this, Droopy. Don’t forget.” She said, pointing at him. Then her eyes lit up. “Hey! You can buy me a drink! I got you that ram stew, after all.”

U’Din blinked before narrowing his eyes at her. “I thought you said the mutton you’d get was for free?”

“Free for _me_ , not for you. Even if you’re the shiny Herald, you have to pay for shite, right? But I got those all for me then shared some with you. I’m nice, right? You should do the same for me and buy me some ale. Right now.”

“Sera, I don’t drink.”

“Well, _good_! More for me, then.”

“Sera, I’m not buying drinks.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“ _Yes_.”

“ _No._ ”

“You smell.”

“No— _hey_ , what’s that got to do with—“

“Yes.”

“ _No!_ ”

“YES.”

“NO.”

“NO, YOU AREN’T!”

“YES, I _AM_!” U’Din slammed his fist on the table. Then he blinked. “ _Wait_ —!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU FELL FOR IT, DROOPY! _PBBBBBBTTT_!” Sera cheered and blew a raspberry at him. She waved a hand in the air. “Hey, Flissa! Some ale here, too!”

“Coming right up, then!”

“But—You— _I—_ “ U’Din struggled with his words before turning pink in embarrassment. He buried his face in his arms and started groaning, complaining about stupid archers and cheating rogues and _dammit why did he fall for it_?!

Sera just watched him mumble grouchily and grinned. Pfft, this talking-to-make-someone-feel-better was easy. She just hoped she didn’t have to do it often because... ugh, _words_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha. Wow. A total waste of chapter space, right? OTL Sorry, I know this chapter was more about feelings but U'Din is a feely person (what). And I like writing about feelings. Yeah. Also, DID YOU GUYS NOTICE SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER COUNT? 8)
> 
> I hope I didn't make Sera too sappy. Since U'Din saved her life, she's gotten quite a bit attached to him. But, of course, Sera will be Sera. Hope that lighthearted scene managed to balance out the little argument Solas and U'Din had. And that first "romantic" moment HAHAHAHAHA ~~it was lame i know sorry~~
> 
> Haven attack next chapter. Are you excited to see U'Din fall apart again? I sure am not. Huhuhu. But yeah, I think it will be pretty epic. I worked hard on the "fight scenes" :)) Anyways, thanks so much for taking the time to read, as usual! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 Also, I've been putting new The Spare-related art in my [art Tumblr](http://prodigal-san-returns.tumblr.com/). Please talk to me I need DAI friends 8( /desperate


	18. Far From Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, I actually took quite a while to update. Well. Compared to how frequent I usually update, anyway. But my best friend dared me not to work on this for a week, and if I succeed she'll treat me to the new Star Wars movie and sushi. And well, let's just say I'm a really happy potato right now 8) HAHAHA so sorry, I traded your enjoyment for lightsabers and sushi OTL Hope you all understand :P
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd, as usual. Mistakes will be corrected later on. 8)

Solas squinted at the tiny green shard between his fingers. He reached for the oil lamp and brought it closer so the light would illuminate the shard even more. Normal people wouldn’t notice the tiny, light-green veins that glowed under the semi-translucent shard.

Normal people wouldn’t know what that would imply, either.

He let out a sharp breath and stood up. He started pacing, still looking at the tiny shard he discreetly pulled out of U’Din’s arm a while ago. It had bothered him at first, secretly taking a small piece and causing the blond a bit of pain but—he shook his head. No, U’Din didn’t know, didn’t _have_ to know. Also, this was for research, and so far his research was leading him to draw a conclusion that he couldn’t help but think too good to be true.

He looked at the shard again, and little flakes of white and violet coated the surface. Also barely unnoticeable. But not to Solas. Definitely _not_ to Solas.

He clenched his fist, trapping the shard inside and poured a tiny bit of his magic into it. He felt the shard absorbing his magic and opened his palm to see the shard glowing brighter. He took in a shaky breath and fell back into his chair.

The implications. _So_ many implications.

He turned back to the draft of the report he was writing and added a few more things. Words like _transformation_ and _harvesting_ stuck out, but when he took a moment to look at what he wrote he sighed and crumpled the paper and set it ablaze with his magic.

No. He wasn’t going there. But maybe... as a safety measure—

He shook his head again. No, no, he was _not_ going to do that to U’Din. His theory hadn’t even been proven, anyway. So what if the shards growing out of the Herald’s arm uncannily resembled his original orb of power? So what if the shards reacted to his magic the same way the orb did? It was most likely a physical manifestation of his magic growing in U’Din’s arm. The shard felt different too—it was similar to his orb, but it also had traces of U’Din’s magic in it. The white and violet flakes on the shards proved it.

Solas stroke the smooth surface of the tiny shard as he leaned back in his chair. He was thinking, speculating, _theorizing_. The _what_ wasn’t what he should be focusing on. It should be the _why_. Why were shards growing out of the blond’s arm? Why was U’Din suffering from a mysterious skin condition that resembled rotting flesh? Why did U’Din know written Elvhen when he was just a mere Second? Why did he have that white spirit sword? _Who is_ —

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of knocking. He stood up from the chair and approached the door, pausing only to get a reading on the person’s aura. He froze when he felt a familiar aura appear behind him, and he turned around to see the spirit of Compassion looking at him thoughtfully.

More knocking on the door, and he turned to stare at the door quizzically. He briefly looked at Cole before opening the door just a tiny bit. It was Leliana.

“Solas, good evening. I trust I wasn’t interrupting your research?”

“No. I had just taken a small break.” The elf said. He briefly shifted his eyes to the side before settling them back on the Spymaster. “But I’ll be getting back to it soon.”

“I’ll be quick, then. Are you finished with the report regarding the Herald’s mark?” She asked.

The hedge mage shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Spymaster. There are a lot of things to consider, and I have yet to determine which of them are worth putting into writing.”

The redhead shook her head. “No, please list them all, if you would be so kind. Also, I’d like to request another report about Herald U’Din. It concerns his wounds. You mentioned him having a sickness of some sort?”

“Yes. I managed to get a bit of information from him earlier. It’s... troubling.” Solas said, frowning as he remembered what the blond said. _There was no point_ , he claimed. The hedge mage refused to believe that.

Leliana mirrored his frown. “Is it... fatal, like you said?”

“...Possibly.” He answered vaguely. Part of him wanted to reveal the truth about U’Din’s condition because the sooner they could get professional help, the better. But... he already realized that U’Din is not what he seemed. Even though it was irresponsible, _foolish_ , he wanted to find out more about the enigmatic elf before acting. Besides, what’s one more risk on top of the many he’s taken so far?

The redhead considered her next words before nodding at him. “I understand. The sooner we can have information on the Herald’s condition, the sooner we can find a possible cure. Josephine and I are going to contact a few professionals in Orlais and Nevarra. I will need a description of his illness tomorrow morning.

“Also, the templar veterans have sent word that they will be arriving in the morning. The Herald should be able to seal the Breach by tomorrow.” Leliana added. “Your travels have made you very knowledgeable about the Fade and the Breach. It would be best if you were to accompany him to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to advise him.”

“Of course.” Solas promised. The redhead inclined her head and started walking back into the cold darkness. The closed the door and paused before looking at the spirit sitting at his desk, rifling through his notes.

“Greetings, Cole. Can I help you with anything?” He asked, approaching the spirit.

“No. Can I help _you_?” He asked, though he was busy looking at Solas’ notes. “I want to help.”

“I understand. You are Compassion, and you are drawn to those who are suffering and in need of help. Perhaps my worries concerning U’Din are what drew you here. Is that correct?”

“...Yes.” Cole placed the notes back on the desk and started pacing, looking at his right hand. “Wallowing, wilting, wasting away. Like a corpse waiting for the crows to gorge on his flesh. He’s tired, torn, tormented by thoughts of tomorrow _today_. Till time turns ‘round and takes him back on track.”

Solas frowned at the spirit’s words. “Are you talking about U’Din, Cole? Were you there a while ago?”

“Yes. I’m _always_ there. I don’t always let him see me.” Cole replied quietly. He stroked his right hand, then his right shoulder. He looked pained. “It hurts because he hurts a lot. He’s broken, bleeding, barely breathing and his body is _wrong_. It’s... hard to help him sometimes. Because sometimes he just hurts, and he himself doesn’t know why. So I don’t either. He knew what was wrong a while ago, but _it_ told me to leave him alone. He _needed_ to be alone. So I just watched. Waiting to help if he needed me.”

“I... see.” The mage said, frowning at the floor. Cole had access to the blond’s thoughts, emotions, _memories_ , so the spirit might say something that could enlighten Solas. He was going to stay quiet and allow the spirit to think out loud, but something Cole mentioned made him curious, “Wait, what do you mean by “it” told you to leave him alone?”

Cole ignored him and went on with his monologue. “The body is becoming too broken for him to bear. He feels pointless, paralyzed, pure agony permeating the putrid prison like a pot full at the peak. He is here, helpless, and he is not home. Not home, _home is far away_. Guarded and gilded. But he does not know how to get home. How could he? But she does, _she_ does. And she will come for him. Soon.”

“By ‘she’, I assume you mean his Keeper.” Solas said, sitting down on his bed. “The full moon is nearing, and it might be too late to send her a message. You feel that she’ll come?”

“She’ll get him back no matter what the cost. He’s too precious, too _valuable_ to stay here.” Cole was in a daze as he continued to pace back and forth. Solas wasn’t even sure if he had even heard the question. “ _I’ll get you back, da’len, I promised to take care of you. You’re needed here, your duty is here. You belong with the elves, not the shems!_ ”

Cole was channeling the clan’s Keeper through U’Din’s emotions and memories, and his words reflected what Solas had read in the letter U’Din made him read. The Keeper’s overprotectiveness of U’Din was not strange; the Herald was part of a Dalish clan, and while they were ignorant and misguided in so many ways, they were rather protective of each other. And U’Din _would_ be valuable to her; he was the Second—the back-up to the First. His Keeper would be foolish not to attempt to get him back. It took her a while, but she did send that message about wanting her Second back.

 _‘The Second,’_ Solas thought, frowning. When U’Din first mentioned being his clan’s Second, he had been almost indifferent to the trivia. But as he learned more about U’Din and appreciated him more, he started to wonder: was U’Din _really_ the Second like he claimed? He seemed to have quite a lot of responsibility for just a Second. Overseeing funerals was mostly the Keeper’s job, so why was U’Din doing it instead? He was also apprenticed to the clan craftswoman, adept in healing and apothecary arts, knowledgeable in strategy, and skilled in _Dirth’ena Enasalin_. It wasn’t often that Dalish elves obtain more than one role in the clan. U’Din could really just be multitalented but... he wondered.

He narrowed his eyes as he thought about something else. U’Din claimed to be sheltered all his life, as well. So why was he so skilled in fighting? And why did he practice _Dirth’ena Enasalin_? U’Din hated violence, so what was it for? Also, why _that_ color for his spirit sword? One didn’t simply change the color of one’s spirit sword, especially if they relied merely on the available information on the lost art. If his memory served him well, and he _knew_ it did, that color was—

He sighed and rubbed at his temples. Implications. _So_ many of them. Solas couldn’t hope to absorb all of them in one night.

“You wonder a lot about him.” Solas looked up to see Cole standing in front of him. No longer pacing, but looking curiously at Solas. “He intrigues you. Worries you. _He_ doesn’t hurt you but thoughts of him do. The world is blurred around you, but he beckons you close, and his face becomes clear in front of you and he becomes real. You don’t think elves are real anymore. But he makes you think twice. And that scares you.”

Solas furrowed his eyebrows and stopped himself from reacting to the spirit’s words. Cole was... supposed to know that, in a way. There was no point in berating him for pointing that out. But still, hearing it come from someone else...

U’Din was special, yes. But he’s not special to _Solas_... or _is_ he? To Solas, he _should_ just be the person who bore the mark. And, in truth, he had considered the blond as simply that in the beginning. Now... he was more than just his left hand. He was a friend.

Violet eyes flashed in his mind, and his fingers suddenly tickled, like they were stroking something soft. Yes, U’Din was _definitely_ more than just the bearer of the mark now. And maybe even—

“The mark scares him. It reminds him of what he thinks he’s not supposed to be. Of what would happen if he goes back to being himself.” Cole revealed suddenly, pulling Solas out of his thoughts. “And the mark feeds from him, grows. It makes his arm heavy yet hollow. The arm is nothing but a husk now. He’s starting to realize, but it will be useless pretty soon.”

“ _What_?!” Solas stood up and approached Cole, trying to find a lie within the spirit’s slightly dazed eyes. He found nothing but sincerity. He swore and bit the bone on his finger, pacing and thinking at great speed.

Did—Did Cole mean to say that U’Din’s mark will eventually consume him? Or that his mark will vanish? Solas didn’t know which was worse!

“Both are... pretty bad.” Cole answered for him. When he felt Solas starting to worry too much, he quickly tried to placate the man. “But don’t worry, Solas. Your magic won’t be lost forever if that happens. It’ll just find a new place to live! His ocarina makes a pretty good home for magic. And _your_ magic likes it.”

Solas blinked. His... _ocarina_?

 

* * *

 

It was still glowing.

U’Din made a little noise as he inspected his mother’s precious ocarina. The glowing wasn’t too noticeable to anyone else probably, but he’s had it all his life. He would know if something was different with it—and the mysterious glowing? _Definitely_ different. Foreboding, even. He could see from the little holes that _something_ was inside, glowing an eerie mix of green and white. He instantly thought of the Envy demon that they had recently killed and of what Cole said: _it just went to look for a new place to live._

Was his... ocarina possessed by the demon? It—It _wasn’t_ right? He would have felt it! And he would have already killed himself if he thought that he’d be putting anyone in danger. Oh, but what if he was too much of a failure to notice anything wrong with it?

He made another little noise. Great. He was potentially harboring a demon inside his ocarina, yet here he was, half-dressed while changing his bandages like nothing was wrong. Actually, the fact that he had to change his bandages regularly was already a pretty big (and troublesome) problem, but it was a problem U’Din could cope with.

But a demon possessing his mother’s ocarina? He might as well just find himself a nice burial spot right now. There was a nice, quiet place near where the druffalo hung out that would make a good burial ground for him, he thought. (He smiled a little. Druffalo were so cute.)

He tightened the knot on the bandage around his right hand with his teeth and sighed in relief. Finally, he could wear his robes. He was about to reach for it when he remembered another wound. In _that_ place. One he often forgot about because, truthfully, he didn’t want to remember how he got it. U’Din sighed and started to take off his pants.

But when he heard a knock on his door, he froze. He then quickly put on his robes and placed the ocarina around his neck before standing up. He adjusted his hastily-worn clothes as he walked towards the door and, as usual, opened the door a tiny bit to see who it was. It was Cassandra. His brows furrowed automatically.

“The templars are ready, U’Din. Are you?” She asked, looking him up and down once.

He opened the door a bit wider and saw that the settlement was busy, scouts running around, most likely on Leliana’s orders. For a moment, he forgot what the excitement was all about. And then it hit him.

Right. The templars. Cassandra just said so. He exhaled through his nose before nodding.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Lady Cassandra. I just need to put on my boots.” He replied quietly. He took a step back and reached for his boots near the doorway. While he put them on, Cassandra observed him.

“You’re wearing new clothes.” She pointed out. “Did you get that from your Keeper’s parcel?”

He hummed an affirmative, tying his boots. He looked up and saw his satchel resting on the desk and wondered if he should take it with him. After a brief moment, he reached for it.

Cassandra’s gaze focused on his right arm, covered up in bandages. Her brows furrowed in concern, but she kept herself from saying anything. She looked at his left arm next; it was bare from the shoulder down to his elbow where another set of bandages could be found wrapped around. Veins peeked from the mouth of his gauntlet, which she still thought shouldn’t be used anymore. His outfit reminded her of one of the mummified corpses Mortalitasi liked to revive, to be honest.

And to add to that, the Seeker thought U’Din seemed more... closed off than usual. Also, he held an air of quiet unease. Did it have something to do with sealing the Breach? Or about... _that_ thing Cassandra wasn’t supposed to ask him about until after the sealing?

She suppressed the urge to make a frustrated noise. Cassandra knew Leliana had a point when she said to have faith in the Herald but... she couldn’t help it. When she knew something had to be done, she didn’t hesitate to just do it. She refused to wait or go around in circles, chasing her tail like an overexcited dog.

But she had to have faith in U’Din. That was something the Herald deserved.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Lady Cassandra. I’m ready.” The blond’s quiet apology pulled her out of her thoughts, and she saw that he was holding the staff his Keeper gave him. She looked at it once before nodding.

“Then let’s go. No time to waste.” The brunette turned without waiting for U’Din to reply, knowing that he would obediently follow. They walked out of the hut and into the morning light, and Cassandra glared up at the Breach swirling ominously in the sky. She clenched her fist and called out to a scout who saluted at them.

All the while, the blond stared at the ground, wishing that he was anywhere else but there.

By the gates, they met up with Cullen who had been talking to one of the veterans. The Commander greeted them nicely enough, but there was an obvious tension between him and U’Din when their eyes met. The mage still felt extremely miffed about what the shems did behind his back, but part of him felt like he shouldn’t fault the Commander for doing what he thought was best. Big and Noisy begged to differ and said good leaders shouldn’t keep secrets from their men.

U’Din agreed wholeheartedly.

He heard a hoot from up above, and he looked up to see the white owl staring down at him from the stone wall. He blinked; he had forgotten all about the owl. He wondered where it went yesterday.

The owl flew down to his shoulder and scratched the inside of its wing with its beak. U’Din smiled and stroked its chest, and it crooned.

The blond had to resist the urge to swoon. Oh man, it was _really_ cute. U’Din had a weakness for cute things.

“Where have you been, little one?” He asked it softly. He felt bad for forgetting about it, but he had been... distracted. Also, the owl should probably have a name by now, shouldn’t it? But he didn’t know if it was a girl or a boy. He frowned.

The owl twitched and turned its head suddenly, and the blond followed its gaze. He saw Solas coming up to them, dressed in his gear and using his staff as a cane. The blond immediately reddened and turned away, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down because _it’s just hahren_. Why did he feel so flustered all of a sudden?

He touched his ear, recalling the fingers that grazed on it the day before and got even more embarrassed. The owl tilted its head at him in curiosity.

“Solas, right on time.” Cassandra said, inclining her head at the hedge mage. “We were just about to depart for the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I trust you are prepared?”

“I am.” He answered.

“Then let’s go. The sooner we can close the Breach, the better.” She said. Cassandra turned and led the way to the temple, followed by the group of templar veterans. The two mages followed shortly after, lagging behind the group. The owl flew ahead, and the blond smiled as he watched it glide in the sky.

Solas turned to U’Din and smiled amiably. “Good morning, U’Din. I trust you are well?”

“G-Good morning, hahren. And err—“ U’Din smiled back nervously. Stupid heart, _calm the fuck down_. “Uh, y-yeah. I’m fine, thank you. I just changed my bandages. And ate breakfast. And got dressed and...” He trailed off after realizing that he was rambling.

“That’s good. What about your mark? I didn’t get to check it this morning because the templars arrived.”

“Oh, well. It’s still weird. But um,” He shook his left arm a bit and frowned. It was really heavy. Much heavier than his right arm. Also, the bruise around his left elbow swelled a lot due to the veins. He was concerned that the mark was making the bruise spread even _with_ the salve his Keeper sent him.

The mark probably wouldn’t have gotten this bad if he hadn’t used his ocarina back in the Storm Coast. But how was he supposed to know the mark would react to it? And now that he thought about it, why _did_ it react that way to him playing it? He didn’t understand.

Solas was thinking along the same lines. His eyes narrowed at the ocarina, and his gaze followed U’Din as the blond walked ahead with Cassandra into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Solas rubbed his chin in thought as he followed silently, ignoring the wary gazes he received from the templars for being an apostate.

 

* * *

 

The Breach looked much more ominous from where he was standing, U’Din thought. He gulped as he looked up at the massive thing, wondering if he really _could_ seal it. Such a huge thing couldn’t be easily sealed by a nobody like him, right?

The owl landed on his head and pecked him, making him look up at it in shock. It seemed to be... glaring? Could owls even do that?

“U’Din, focus.” Cassandra appeared in front of him, and the owl took that as a sign to fly away. Her eyes followed it for a moment before coming back to him. “We need you at your best for this. There’s no telling what would happen once we attempt to close the Breach.”

The blond sighed and nodded. “I understand. I just... hope that I can meet your expectations.”

He felt a weight on his shoulder, and he looked up to see that Cassandra had placed her hand there. She smiled at him slightly, which surprised him a bit.

“I have faith in you, U’Din. I don’t think I’ve told you that, but I do believe in you.” She said. After taking off her hand, she continued, “You can and _will_ close this Breach. But you have to be cautious.

“Be ready.” She instructed. “We shall start soon.”

He nodded at her quietly.

“Templars!” She called out. Her gaze met Solas’, and they nodded at each other. The mage turned to the templars as well and spoke.

“Focus past the Herald!” Solas instructed the templars. “Let his will draw from you!”

The templars stood at the ready, unsheathing their swords and striking the ground. U’Din immediately felt the ground shake, and anti-magic lingered in the air. That must be the suppression taking place.

His mark sparked all of a sudden, and the sharp pain took him aback. He endured it and looked up at the Breach, glaring at it. He took in a deep breath and clenched his left hand.

Okay, it was now or never.

He collected magic in his left hand, raising it towards the sky. Magic surrounded him, almost pushing his body down. He grunted and pushed against it, crying out as he expelled the magic from his hand and up towards the Breach. Bright, green light shot towards the Breach, and the shards on his arm grew in size. His eyes widened, and his stomach clenched as he felt excruciating pain from his arm.

The magic reached the Breach, and it sent out shockwaves that knocked everyone back and onto the ground. U’Din was the last to fall, gripping his left arm and crying out in pain.

The last thing he saw before passing out was an arm reaching out for his neck. And then—nothingness.

 

* * *

 

When he came to, he was in his hut.

U’Din sat up immediately, eyes wide. Wh-What happened? Did he manage to close the Breach? Or did he fail like the incompetent fool he was? He turned and saw Solas sitting nearby, inspecting something in his hands. When the other mage noticed him, he let out a sigh of relief and pocketed whatever he was looking at.

“Thank goodness you are awake, U’Din.” The hedge mage said, going over to him to sit at the foot of the bed. He looked concerned for him. “Are you all right? When you fell, Cassandra and I had thought the worst.”

“What happened?” He asked, lifting an arm to scratch his head. When he looked at it, he drew back till he hit the headboard.

His left arm... was completely covered in black. Or dark green. And... dark red? Whatever color it was, it wasn’t _normal_. And the arm itself was thin and wrinkly, and the veins were _glowing_. What the fuck?!

Solas frowned at it. U’Din looked at him with wide eyes, silently asking what had happened. He sighed.

“The magic you had to expel was too much for your arm to handle. The magic of the mark is still there, but your arm...” He trailed off and touched the black skin. U’Din looked at the pale hand on his left arm and let out a sharp breath.

He... didn’t feel that. He didn’t feel Solas’ touch at all! He wanted to puke.

“Wh-Why is this happening?” U’Din despaired, touching his left arm. When he felt nothing, he tried smacking it a few times, and he jerked when Solas reached for his right hand.

“U’Din, what are you doing?! _Stop_ it!” He barked at him.

“But I—“ The blond looked at his blackened arm in disgust and shame. “When you touched me I couldn’t feel anything. So—“

“Did you have to hit yourself? Just because you don’t feel pain doesn’t mean you’re not causing damage!”

“I— _Sorry_ , I was just trying to—“ The blond cut himself off and looked away, cowed. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Wh-What’s going to happen now?”

Solas shook his head before letting the blond’s wrist go. “I am not certain. We may need to ask a professional to look into this. My knowledge in the healing arts is rather limited, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve done the most help with the mark.” U’Din protested quietly, looking at his hahren through his bangs.

The elf hummed, “I’ve done what I could, but I could not stop the transformation process. And now we have reason to believe that your _sickness_ is affecting the mark as well. Or, the current state of your arm is the result of the magic agitating your arm and your condition. There are many possible explanations. The advisors are now planning to contact the finest healers around Thedas just to look at you.”

U’Din frowned, not liking the idea of anyone going through so much trouble just for him. “Won’t that be expensive, though? I-I don’t want to trouble them. And I _really_ don’t think that this has a cure, anyway. So why bother?”

Solas closed his eyes, and it looked like he was trying to calm himself down. He exhaled and said, “We won’t know until we try, U’Din. If there’s even a _smallest_ chance that we can find a cure for you, we have to seize it.

“Besides, you have much work to do yet.” Solas fished something out of his pocket. He dangled it by the rope and showed it to U’Din, and the blond immediately reached for it.

“My ocarina!” He held the glowing ocarina to his chest. He was about to thank Solas, but a thought stopped him. This... Was this what he was looking at earlier? He looked at the other elf warily. “Why do you have this, hahren? I had it around my neck.”

Instead of answering U’Din, Solas just stared at the instrument in his hands. After a few moments, he looked up to meet U’Din’s eyes and smiled, “That really is an interesting instrument you have there. I hadn’t thought much of it at first, but after I held it, it’s obvious that it’s no mere ocarina. Where did you get it?”

The random question took the blond aback. It took a moment for him to reply. “Oh, um, it’s my mother’s. The Keeper gave it to me long ago, back when I was still a toddler. She said... my mother would have wanted me to have it.”

“Interesting.” Solas said, eyeing the ocarina again. He looked between U’Din and the instrument for a while, and it made the blond feel uneasy, like he was being read. Also, why was Solas smiling like that? “Did you ever ask where she got it?”

U’Din thought about it before shaking his head. “Not really. I never... really asked about my parents. I did once, but only about where they were and stuff. After that, I never bothered. Why the sudden interest, hahren?”

“Hm? Oh. Nothing. I was just curious.” Solas said, smiling at him. He stood up and gestured towards the door. “If you are well enough, please follow me out. You’re missing out on the celebration.”

“Celebration? Huh?” U’Din blinked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Solas smiled. He reached out to rub the blond’s head, running his fingers through the silky strands. U’Din’s jaw dropped as he stared up at him, but Solas didn’t back away. Instead, he leaned in close and said:

“You did it, U’Din.” His teeth flashed a pearly white. “You sealed the Breach.”

 

* * *

 

“The heavens are scarred, but calm. The Breach is sealed, U’Din. Well done.”

U’Din and Cassandra were overlooking the celebration taking place in Haven. People were laughing, dancing, _rejoicing_ , but for some reason the blond didn’t— _couldn’t_ share their happiness. Not when he still couldn’t decide. And certainly not when his arm was fucked up. He frowned at the corrupted arm which he covered in bandages for discretion.

He remembered the sympathetic, _pitiful_ looks he received from his companions earlier and scowled, leaning against the bejeweled staff. They must have thought him some kind of freak now.

The Seeker noticed him looking at his arm and frowned sympathetically. It honestly pained her to see him have to go through such trials, especially since U’Din was such a noble, kindhearted person. And he was the _Herald_ , the chosen one. He didn’t deserve to suffer from such a rare, complicated disease.

“Leliana and Josephine have sent letters to the best healers in Thedas. It would take a few days for the replies to come in, but rest assured that we’ll have _someone_ look at you. A sickness of that kind should be diagnosed immediately.” She told him.

The blond sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. At least touching the veins didn’t hurt anymore. _Whoopee_. “I don’t see the point, Lady Cassandra. My Keeper has done all she could to find out what this is. She even asked the Keepers from _other_ clans. No one has heard of this. There’s no cure.”

“We can’t give up, U’Din.” She persisted, glaring at him. “While it is true that your sickness is rare and unheard of, there is hope that professional healers could find out what it is and develop a cure for it. The cure doesn’t have to exist _now_. Herbalism has made quite a few advances the last ten years. There is hope.”

The blond sighed and nodded, if only just to placate her. They stood quietly next to each other, still overseeing the celebrations. He saw Sera waving around a tankard and gesturing empathically with her other hand. Blackwall and Iron Bull were listening to her stories, and they were laughing. Varric had said something that made her storm towards him, and the dwarf fled the scene, Sera hot on his heels. He started to smile at the scene, but then it faded before it could fully bloom.

If he ever decide to go back home, he’d be leaving them. The companions—the _friends_ he’d made in this crazy, messed up chapter of his life. The thought of walking away from them made his chest pang painfully. Just further away from the group he saw Solas conversing with Cole. He frowned.

The thought of walking away from _Solas_ —now _that_ caused him to feel strange. _Really_ strange.

He glared at the ground. Becoming... _attached_ to the people here hadn’t been part of the plan. _At all._ But so hadn’t messing up at the Conclave, gaining the mark and becoming the Herald of Andraste. He sighed woefully; he really couldn’t do anything right.

“You do not wish to join them?” The Seeker asked, gesturing towards the merry group of their inner circle having the time of their lives. She had a small smile on her face. “The Qunari tells of fascinating stories. Warden Blackwall, as well. I only left because the _dwarf_ started contributing.”

U’Din shook his head. “Not really. I don’t—it’s okay. They’re having fun, and I don’t want to ruin it for them or anything.”

“Is it because of your arm? They do not judge you for it, nor do I.” She said, and U’Din turned away after she made that statement.  “And why can’t _you_ have fun? You, of all people, deserve a little respite after accomplishing all you’ve done.”

He smiled mirthlessly and shook his head. “I don’t really do dancing. Or drinking.”

“Oh?” She asked, sounding interested at the little trivia. She hummed. “I suppose you _do_ seem the type to forego alcohol. Nevertheless, there has to be something. What _do_ you do for fun?”

U’Din blinked at the question, and he turned his head to look at her quizzically. Was she actually...? No. No, she _couldn’t_ be trying to be... nice to him. Was she? Cassandra was talking to him in a, dare he say, _friendly_ way and, honestly, it made him feel weird. He respected the Seeker for her confidence and skill, but he never thought about talking to her like this. Or her even _prompting_ the talking-like-this.

Cassandra didn’t like him. That was obvious. So she shouldn’t be forcing herself to be nice to him. U’Din felt uncomfortable that she felt she had to do that. He looked at the sky, thinking of something else they could talk about.

The sky. He swallowed.

“What’s going to happen now, Lady Cassandra?” He asked. Yes, Inquisition conversation things. He should talk about those instead. He didn’t like to be reminded of them, but that was the only topic he and Cassandra ever talked about. And she... liked talking about Inquisition things. Right?

Cassandra frowned, but she didn’t say anything. She turned to face the scarred sky. “Although the immediate danger has been neutralized, there are still lingering rifts. And many questions still remain, like who had caused this. I feel that we’ll be finding out soon enough, but there is much work to be done. Still, this was a victory for the Inquisition. For _you_.”

U’Din furrowed his brows. “Me? What do you mean, _me_?”

“Word of your heroism has already spread throughout Thedas, U’Din. Now that you’ve actually sealed the Breach, you’ve gained quite the reputation for yourself.” The Seeker told him. She turned to him and smiled. “It’s only natural, however. After all that you’ve done, you deserve it.”

The blond frowned and turned away, scratching at the skin on his left arm that wasn’t black (dark green, red, _whatever_ ) and hideous. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I just did the right thing. Anyone in my position would have done that as well, if not better.”

“Surely you don’t believe that.” Cassandra said incredulously, staring at him in disbelief. “You helped hundreds of people, gave displaced villagers hope and respite. You helped the templars and thwarted the demon that schemed to take over the order. You sealed the _Breach_. You have done _so_ many things that normal people wouldn’t have done, let alone be able to. Yet you would belittle everything you have accomplished?

“I know—I know the two of us have rarely seen eye to eye, Herald, and we’ve butted heads on more than one occasion. But I never once doubted that whatever you did, it was for the good of everyone. You’re a good person, U’Din. An honest to goodness saint, and you deserve this. Please believe that.”

The blond frowned and said, “Lady Cassandra, if you’re trying to flatter me to get me to stay, it’s not going to work. I’m... still not sure what to do, anyway. And my work here is do—“

Their conversation was interrupted by warning bells. The music stopped, the laughing, the joy—everything froze in time. Only the bells moved, alerting the settlement of an impending danger. Cassandra and U’Din exchanged looks as confused shouts rang in the air.

Cullen ran towards the center of the establishment, shouting commands to the running soldiers and scouts. “There are forces approaching! To arms!”

“Force— _Commander_!” Cassandra shouted, stepping on the edge of the platform. “What’s going on?!”

“A large force is steadily approaching Haven! Our watchtowers towards the north have been wiped out already!”

“What the—“ She cut herself off and turned to U’Din, looking frantic. “Quick, U’Din! Let’s head to the gates!” She unsheathed her sword and pointed at the gates. They both jumped down and ran.

U’Din made a little noise. It looked like they were far from done. He cursed. 

 

* * *

 

“Everyone is afraid.” Cole said as he looked around the settlement and watched the non-combatants run to safety, screaming. U’Din’s owl landed on his hat, hooting.

“Their fear is well-founded.” Solas spoke as he adjusted his grip on his staff and checked his pockets for potions. He looked up at the sky, clouded and dark—a poor foreboding of what is to come.

“What the _frig_ is going on?!” Sera ran towards the gates with Blackwall, Vivienne, Iron Bull and Varric right behind her. She was wearing her armor. So were they. “Why are we under attack?! Who’d we piss off?!”

“The question is who _didn’t_ we piss off, Buttercup. This was a _looong_ time coming.” Varric replied to her drily, cranking his crossbow. He frowned up at the sky. “But I suppose they could have showed a bit of gratitude by not wiping us out. Willow _did_ seal that huge rift.”

“Are you _seriously_ joking about this?” Vivienne asked, slightly appalled at the dwarf’s nonchalance.

“Hey, I’m just using humor to hide just how shit scared I am. Don’t mind me.”

U’Din looked at his companions before looking at the gate. It would be stupid to open it just to see what was going on. But he needed to see how bad the situation was. He growled irritably. Fuck this, why did _everything_ seem to—

“Droopy, why the frig you so quiet?!” Sera latched on to him, shaking him slightly. “Are you in shock? There’s no time for that! You—“

“Sera, _quiet_.” U’Din raised his hand to silence her and then went back to thinking. He looked towards the wall and went over to it. After briefly considering his next move, he quickly used the wooden wall perpendicular to the stone wall to maneuver to the top. He looked towards the horizon and gasped.

There was a huge force coming their way. And they were moving _fast_.

“Cullen, what’s the situation?” Cassandra asked the Commander.

“One watchguard ran all the way here to report. He was bloodied. Must have escaped the assault.” Cullen began. “It’s a _massive_ force, the bulk over the mountain. We’ve no idea where they came from or how they managed to get this close without us knowing.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine approached him, Leliana just behind her.

Cullen frowned and shook his head. “We don’t know. _None_.”

“ _None_?!” Josephine balked, taken aback. “But—But how can an army that size have no banner?”

U’Din had turned to listen when the shems started talking. When he looked forward again, he saw a cloaked figure running towards the gate. His breath hitched, and he was about to reach for his staff when the cloaked figure started shooting with _their_ staff. At the enemy, apparently. U’Din watched as the mysterious mage sent out blast after blast. When U’Din saw a group of warriors charging at the mage, he acted on instinct and called on the power of lightning, zapping each and every one of them. The cloaked figure took the opportunity to prime a fire glyph that burnt all the remaining enemies to ashes.

“What was that? A blast?” Cullen saw the light that flashed beneath the gates, and he looked up to see U’Din on top of the wall. He blinked. “Herald? What are you doing up there?!”

The cloaked figure walked a bit closer and took off his cloak, revealing a dark-skinned man with a strange mustache. He looked up at U’Din and said, “Thanks for the help. Much appreciated!”

U’Din blinked down at him and nodded. But now that he thought about it, had it been a good idea to help him? He could’ve been the enemy. Ugh, _shit_ he was so stupid.

“You’re him, aren’t you? The Herald!” The stranger said. He pointed towards the gate with his staff. “I came to tell you about what happened with the mages at Redcliffe. You’re not going to like it.”

U’Din’s eyes widened. The mages at Redcliffe? He jumped down the wall and jogged towards the mage, not heeding the calls from his companions. He had just arrived in front of the mage when the latter suddenly doubled over, and U’Din quickly rushed to help him up.

“Are you all right?” He asked in concern. He reached for two potions in his satchel—one lyrium, one regeneration. He offered them to the mage who took them gratefully.

“Oh, you’re heaven sent. And don’t mind me, just mite exhausted. But not for long.” The mage said, quickly consuming the potions. After he was done, he composed himself and regarded U’Din seriously. “I came to warn you about the mages. Fashionably late; sorry about that.”

“What happened, sir?” He asked, looking at the scorched corpses on the ground. He noticed strange helmets on the ground and frowned. Who _were_ these people?

U’Din heard the gates open, and he turned to see Cullen and his friends coming out of the settlement. They gazed at the newcomer warily (except for Cole, maybe), and the blond mage quickly stood in front of him.

“Don’t worry, he’s not a threat.”—he _hoped_ —“He says something happened to the mages at Redcliffe.”

“Nothing good. The mages have been recruited under the command of the Venatori—an army controlled by something called the _Elder One_.”

They all froze. The... _Elder_ _One_? That corrupted knight captain mentioned the same thing! U’Din exchanged worried looks with the companions he brought to Therinfal. They saw the chaos at Therinfal firsthand. If this _Elder_ _One_ the stranger talked about was connected to what happened at Therinfal, that meant they were in for more than just an ambush.

The mage pointed towards the distance, and they all looked and saw someone walking up to the edge of a cliff. It was a woman carrying a staff, and she looked behind her where someone— _something_ else appeared.

It was a _monster_.

“That—“ The mage began. “Is the Elder One, I believe.”

“Holy fri— _what the fuck is that_?!” Sera screeched. She growled and took out her bow. “Okay, nuh-uh, _not_ liking this!”

“Dark and desperate, hanging over his head. He seeks to take back what was lost, set the world ablaze. He wants to turn everything red. Red, red, _so red_ —“

“Not helping, _Creepy_!”

“They were already marching in on Haven by the time I found out.” The newcomer said, turning to U’Din and Cullen. “I risked my life to get here before they could just to tell you. This is _no_ ordinary enemy.”

“We gathered that.” Commander said blandly, nodding at the mage. He turned to U’Din and said, “Haven is no fortress, Herald. If we are to withstand this _thing_ , we must take control of the battle. We have trebuchets that can launch attacks on the bulk near the mountain, but the enemies sent ahead could put us at a disadvantage since it would take time to set them up. Can you handle them?”

He nodded at the blond shem and said, “All right. I’ll try to hit it with everything I’ve got before they reach this point.”

“See that you do. We’re counting on you!” Cullen unsheathed his sword and ran to alert the Inquisition soldiers.

Cassandra appeared beside U’Din. “What are we going to do? How should we distribute everyone?”

U’Din took a moment to think about it. He looked around to pinpoint where the trebuchets would be best placed. Over _that_ hill by the south would do nicely. Then here, in the north. He turned back to his companions and started giving instructions quickly.

“Lady Cassandra, take Lady Vivienne, hahren and Mr. Iron Bull and defend this spot. If my guess is right, Commander Cullen would be setting up a trebuchet right here to the north, and right over there to the south. It’s imperative that this spot is clear of enemies so they can set up without a hitch. Understand?”

Everyone blinked at his sudden change in attitude. Except for Cole; he _beamed_. The three companions in question looked at each other before nodding at him.

“Understood, Herald.” Cassandra said.

“Mr. Varric, Sera! Take to higher ground.” He instructed, pointing at the hill nearby. “Try to stop as much enemies as you can from even _reaching_ this point. I’m sure your exploding arrows can do that, right?”

“Friggin’ _yeah_ they can!” Sera cheered. Then she furrowed her brows at him. “Hey! What about you?”

“I’ll be here getting rid of the enemies that reach the south end. They’ll be coming from there _and_ over there.” U’Din said, pointing to towards the south. “Warden Blackwall, Cole and—um, sorry sir, what’s your name again?”

“Dorian. Dorian Pavus. Very nice of you to ask.”

“Okay. Mr. Pavus.” U’Din said. Before the dark-skinned mage could react, U’Din turned back to his companions. “The four of us will head there, defending that spot.”

“You would take only one warrior with you, Herald?” Vivienne asked, frowning a bit.

“The enemy is marching further north of here, Lady Vivienne, so it’s possible that the bulk of the enemies will be encountered here. This spot would need the most defending, so I’m counting on all of you.” U’Din explained quickly. “Anyway, I have Cole. He can take the enemy by surprise.”

“But Droopy, what if—“

“Sera, _don’t_ question me. We have no time, okay?!” U’Din said urgently, and the blond archer shut up and nodded, though she didn’t look pleased. He sighed and said, “L-Look, I know I mess up and I’m not perfect and I’m _definitely_ not a leader but—but we have no choice, okay? If you have a problem with this plan, then—then go to Commander Cullen and help the villagers!”

“ _Easy_ there, Willow, we weren’t saying anything! Your plan’s great, don’t worry about it.” Varric went up to him and patted him on the back, grinning encouragingly.

“Okay, okay. _Great_. Let’s move out, then!” U’Din said with finality, bringing out his staff. Along with Cole, Blackwall and Dorian, he ran towards the south, leaving the rest of the companions behind.

Cassandra nodded at them and said, “You heard him. We defend this spot at all costs. The soldiers are already bringing the siege equipment to this spot.”

“Willow will never cease to amaze me,” Varric chuckled, hoisting his crossbow on his shoulder. He grinned up at Sera and said, “Well, Buttercup, let’s go up to that hill.”

While everyone started heading to their designated areas, Sera looked towards the south end and frowned. She walked up to Solas and tugged at the man’s sash to keep him from walking away, “H-Hey Baldy, do you think he’ll be all right? He’s injured, inn’he? Maybe one of us should go with him or something.”

“You needn’t fear.” Solas said, turning to Sera. “For reasons still unclear, he seems to be able to function as any healthy mage could despite his injuries. He is a skilled mage, Sera, so I would not worry if I were you.”

The blond archer grumbled something about not being worried as she walked away, but the concerned expression she had on her face while looking towards the south betrayed her. Solas followed her gaze and frowned as well. He suppressed the urge to follow the Herald and went to Cassandra’s side without another word, preparing himself for the first wave of enemies.

The first warrior appeared, and Solas crushed him under a stone fist.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be 15k words. :)) Corypheus should have made his appearance here already, but I decided against it because, well, pacing. Sorry about that. :)) But at least we have Dorian now! The inner circle is finally complete <3 I'll try to get the next update up by Christmas!
> 
> Once again, thank you lots for taking the time to read ;___; and I appreciate the kudos and the comments! :D See you next update, guys <3


	19. Like Candle Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to put this up as a Christmas present for you all! :)) But I'm not sure it can be considered a present because... well. It's the Haven attack XD But yeah, whooooo the Haven arc is finally over!
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Will correct any mistakes later on. And MERRY CHRISTMAS to those who celebrate it! :D Otherwise, I hope you all have a great day regardless <3

_Ellana said the Keeper wanted to talk to him. She had been cold about it, as usual, but at this point U’Din was used to her unexplained hostility towards him by now. But he couldn’t help but gaze longingly at her retreating back, wishing he knew just what made his former best friend hate him so much._

_He opened the flap to the Keeper’s tent and bowed, greeting the old woman respectfully. She barely smiled as she nodded at him and told him to sit down. Her quiet unease was contagious, and he found himself dreading whatever it was that the Keeper wanted to tell him._

_“It’s about your wound,” She began, holding a bunch of letters in her hands. “I researched as much as I could about it, and even contacted the Sabrae and Tillahnnen clans. Went as far as to contact that Hawen, as well. But none of their Keepers have heard of this illness of yours. It’s very rare and... possibly dangerous.”_

_“Dangerous?” U’Din asked, holding his bandaged shoulder._

_“Aye.” She said mournfully. She was holding four letters and gave him three. She set aside the other one, and before U’Din could ask from whom it was, the Keeper said, “I’m afraid that whatever it is that’s keeping your wounds from healing is beyond me, da’len._

_“Listen well: from now on, you must be extra careful not to get hurt anymore, U’Din. And whatever you do, you absolutely_ must _stay away from fire. If this continues to spread, it would eventually... consume you.”_

 _“C—Consume?” U’Din asked, hoping against hope that the Keeper did_ not _mean what he thought she did. He felt hope dwindling when the Keeper looked away with a frown._

_“You’ll die, U’Din.” She told him quietly. “Much sooner than any of us would have liked.”_

_What little hope he had flickered out like candle light._

 

* * *

 

True enough, Cullen _did_ want to set up trebuchets at the north and south. Soldiers quickly moved, carried and pushed the siege equipment to the designated spots in order to set them up, and consistently those spots were attacked. Luckily for the soldiers, U’Din had distributed him and his companions between the spots to defend them. It was at times like this when U’Din felt a _tiny_ bit proud of himself. But just a tiny bit, mind.

“Marvelous control you have there.” Dorian commented after he set the last warrior ablaze.

The blond blinked at the mage at his side and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Your control. Over your magic, that is.” Dorian said. He snapped his fingers and three fire glyphs appeared around them, primed to activate when the next wave of enemies appeared. “You have this—how should I say this? _Calmness_ about you. Which is all good, but also _very_ strange, considering we’re under attack by a huge army of mages fighting under a hideous looking thing. You must be very used to this. Although, I suppose being the Herald of Andraste has given you much experience.”

“I— _Thanks_?” U’Din raised a brow, not really sure how to respond. He turned his head to check on the soldiers setting up the trebuchet. They were probably almost done since all they were doing was cranking the huge thing.

But the seemingly never-ending waves of enemy soldiers set the preparations back quite a bit. U’Din wondered if he should have asked Solas or Vivienne to help them out here in the south.

He shook his head. No, they needed mages. And the hill where he assigned Sera and Varric was roughly in the middle of the two trebuchet locations, so Sera was able to rain arrows on enemies approaching their area. He was thankful for that; it made him have to kill less people than he needed to. Of course, he’d rather not kill _at all_ but—

“Heads up!” Dorian cried, shooting fiery blasts at the incoming enemies. Arrows rained down, but not all of them hit. Fortunately, Cole and Blackwall were there to take down the remaining enemies.

“Well _that’s_ no fun.” Dorian said, huffing a bit after the two warriors stole their kill. He turned to U’Din and jerked, “Herald, _behind_ you!”

U’Din turned and summoned a new barrier in time to block a killing blow. He put his fingers on his forehead and expelled waves from his mind that sent the warrior flying. Three more warriors appeared behind him, and the blond quickly struck them with lightning.

“Lightning, eh? Would have pegged you as an _ice_ kind of mage.” Dorian commented again, and he grinned a bit when one of his glyphs was activated and had sent a few enemies flying. “I’m more of a pyromage, myself. Obviously.”

“...Lightning is more merciful.” U’Din responded, looking at the dead bodies a few feet away from him. He knew quite a few ice and fire spells, but he only ever used his lightning spells when attacking enemies. Ice was too slow, torturous—fire even more so. But lightning was fast, precise; he could kill an enemy without causing them unnecessary pain.

But, of course, lightning can only cause so much damage when the power is distributed among so many strikes. One of the warriors he struck stood up, and U’Din cursed as he readied another spell.

“ _I’ll_ take care of that.” Dorian said, standing in front of him. He pointed his staff at the dead bodies around them and U’Din twitched, feeling discomfort in his skin—and a strange urge. Drop to his knees, perhaps? And then, to U’Din’s _absolute_ horror, the corpses slowly started standing up and, with a wave of Dorian’s hand, started attacking the survivor.

_Undead._

His arms shook as he watched the corpses attack the (unfortunate) survivor relentlessly, even after the warrior had landed a few powerful blows. The warrior was eventually overwhelmed, and he died after one of the corpses pierced his chest. When the enemy fell, Dorian relinquished his control over the corpses, and they all dropped to the ground. U’Din felt the urge to do the same. He covered his mouth with his hand, lest he vomit right then and there.

That was—Dorian had just—

“Necromancy. Fancy stuff, yes?” The mage set his staff on the ground and twirled a mustache.

U’Din didn’t say anything. He just stared at the corpses behind Dorian and took a few steps back. He gulped and shook slightly, still feeling the _horrible, corrupt_ magic in the area. His hand twitched, and his stomach made painful little jumps.

“I’m—“

_“Fire!”_

The soldier shouted, and the trebuchet launched an attack on the mountainside, causing an avalanche. U’Din watched as the snow buried the enemies, and the torches they carried flickered out one by one. The soldiers cheered, the horn sounded—the enemy was overcome. U’Din leaned against the trebuchet and sighed in relief.

But then they heard a high-pitched roar, and U’Din saw a long, reptilian tail before finding himself flying backwards. He hit the ground with a thud and groaned painfully, but a large, scorched piece of the trebuchet landed on his left leg, and he cried out in pain.

“HERALD!”

He panted heavily and looked up to see Blackwall trying to get the wooden pole off of him. It took another soldier or two for them to be able to get it off him, and the Grey Warden knelt beside him.

“Easy, easy,” He soothed, helping U’Din sit up. The man turned and winced when he saw the state of the Herald’s leg. “Fuck.”

“Herald, what is— _holy_ —“ Dorian and Cole appeared soon after, and the mage knelt down as well and fished something out of his pocket. “Here, it’s a burn salve. Take this—“

“It won’t work.” Cole said quietly, kneeling by the burnt leg. It was easily a third degree burn, and blood lingered on the scorched skin. The spirit looked pained as he looked up at U’Din. “Broken, bleeding, _burnt_. It’s getting worse. Your body’s not going to last much longer.”

“What are you talking about, Cole?” Blackwall asked. But he shook his head when he decided it wasn’t important for now—they had to get the Herald up and on his feet; it was unlikely that the beast would only attack them once.

U’Din bit his lip to keep himself from crying out from the pain as he stood up. He stumbled a bit, but fortunately his companions were there to help him. Blackwall called out to a soldier and told her to send word to Cullen about what happened to the Herald. The blond listened for a bit before shaking his head, slowly untangling himself from the Warden so he could stand on his own. It was hard, painful, but eventually he got used to it. Cole watched him sadly, and Dorian looked at him like he was mad.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want help?” He asked. “You’d be crazy to think you can run with that leg! We need to get back to shelter, and you’re—“

“ _Fine_. I can walk.” U’Din said, demonstrating by walking a few steps forward. He hissed at the pain, but looking down at his leg he could see the skin already starting to blacken around the burns. His stupid sickness was already doing its job. He gestured towards Haven with his head. “Everyone, to the gates. We have to regroup.”

Blackwall nodded and moved to help him, but U’Din shook his head and moved by himself. Slowly at first, and then going a bit faster. They saw Harrit kicking at the door to his stockroom. The blond told him to move back and threw a fireball at the door to get it to open. He used a bit of his ice magic to douse the flames, and Harrit thanked him for the help. The party moved on after that.

U’Din blinked when suddenly Cole and Blackwall lifted his arms over their shoulders and started carrying him. He told them that he was fine and that they should save themselves if there wasn’t enough time, but his companions just gave him looks that made him shut up (Dorian and Blackwall looked angry. Cole just looked sad).

“Move it, _move it_!” Cullen yelled from the gates, and his eyes widened when he saw the Herald’s party approaching. He gestured empathically for them to enter the gates, and after everyone was inside, he closed the gates tight.

A loud roar rang in the air and sent chills down everyone’s spine.

 

* * *

 

What little time U’Din managed to buy for all of them vanished in a blink of an eye. Now everyone was panicking, _praying_ for a miracle. An army they had a chance against, but a _dragon_? A potential archdemon? It was anybody’s guess now.

The floor of the Chantry shook as the dragon roared, and the candle lights flickered. Everyone had taken refuge in the Chantry, hoping against hope that somehow, they would be all right. But the dragon’s screams diminished that hope like the shaking earth made the lights in the Chantry flicker.

They were all going to die. And U’Din could do _nothing_ about it.

U’Din looked at the faces of the villagers and soldiers taking refuge in the Chantry and gritted his teeth, and not because Solas was currently applying burn salve on his leg. There were faces there he _didn’t_ see, and the more he thought about the reason why, the more he hated himself for it.

He failed to save Seggrit. And Threnn. The merchant had already been buried by the time Cole had entered the burning building through the roof. And U’Din had been too preoccupied with enemies to notice that Threnn was heavily injured; she died a few minutes after they carried her into the Chantry.

Frustrated tears welled up in his eyes, and he bowed his head to discreetly wipe them away. Why, _why_ he couldn’t do anything right? Why couldn’t he save everybody?! He couldn’t even—he held on to his ocarina as he breathed deeply, lamenting the loss of two Inquisition members.

They didn’t deserve to die that way. Nobody did.

Solas looked up briefly to see U’Din’s face being covered by his hair, and he knew instantly what the blond was upset about. He felt like he should just quietly treat the blond’s burns (or try to, anyway), but seeing U’Din so crushed over the lives lost; Solas couldn’t stand it.

“U’Din, you did your best.” The hedge mage consoled him quietly, and his frown deepened when he saw U’Din hunch forward, cradling his head in his hands. “You couldn’t have saved everyone, not in your condition. You saved as many people as you could—the alchemist, the templar, the bar keeper and the researcher. Even the elven servants owe you their lives.”

“It’s not enough.” U’Din breathed. His mind replayed the scene where he tried to revive the Quartermaster with his healing magic. He had managed to close some of her wounds, but she had bled so much. He could still remember her last words to him:

_“Didn’t expect this from you. Thanks. For everything.”_

And then she was gone. Because U’Din had been too weak to bring her back.

He was so _useless_.

The hedge mage sighed and decided to leave it at that, not knowing what to say to make the blond feel better. He made a frustrated noise when the burn salves did nothing to stop the spreading of the black blight that was consuming U’Din’s leg. The burns must be speeding up the process somehow. Solas didn’t know what to do!

U’Din watched his leg be consumed with morbid curiosity. He remembered the day the Keeper informed him about the state of his wounds; she had given him clear instructions to avoid getting hurt anymore and that he should _absolutely_ stay away from fire. He felt bad for breaking all the rules she gave, but he couldn’t help but wonder how the Keeper knew that fire would cause more damage than normal.

Thinking of the Keeper made him recall that he had put some of her salve in his satchel. He opened the flap and fished out the small jar so that he could hand it to the older elf. When Solas looked at inquisitively, he said, “Hahren, use this. It’s my Keeper’s salve. It might do a better job.”

Solas nodded and took it, applying it as fast (and gently) as he could. U’Din sighed when he felt the cold relief the salve provided, and he was prepared for another few minutes of relative silence when—

_“Droopy!”_

Sera ran towards the two elves and winced at his burn wounds. “You got hurt _again_?! What is it with you and getting hurt?! You have the _worst_ luck in the World, Droopy!”

“I’ll say.” Iron Bull retorted behind her. When their eyes met, the Qunari looked more sympathetic. “You okay, boss? Heard a piece of the trebuchet fell on you.”

“I’m—I’m okay. Thanks for asking.” He said meekly. Solas had finished applying the salve and started wrapping it in bandage next, and U’Din looked up at the Qunari to ask, “How—How are your men? Are the Chargers fine?”

Iron Bull smiled and shook his head, “No need to worry, boss. It would take a dreadnought to get rid of those knuckleheads. Dalish says thanks, by the way. Her arm’s fine now.”

U’Din nodded. Dalish was the, well, _Dalish_ elf “archer” in Iron Bull’s band of mercenaries. U’Din had bumped into her on the way to the Chantry, and she seemed to be favoring her right arm. It had a nasty gash, and he had quickly healed it with his magic.

Sera walked a bit closer and bent a bit to look more closely at his leg. She had heard about U’Din’s strange “sickness”, but it was her first time seeing it for herself. The blackened skin was craggy, and it reminded her of... something. She couldn’t remember _what_ , exactly, but it was definitely familiar.

She scrunched up her nose at it. “ _Ugh_ , Droopy, no wonder you hide this all the time. That’s just _nasty_.”

“Sorry for being _hideous_ , then.” He spat out without thinking. Then he shook his head when he realized what he just said. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Sera.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s—“

The ground shook again, and they braced themselves. The dragon roared, and the worried and frantic whispering increased.

Solas frowned and sighed, trying to come up with a way to combat the beast while he was wrapping U’Din’s leg. When he ran out of bandage, his frustration worsened; damn it, if he only had his strength back—

“Um,”

They all turned to see an elven servant looking at them uncertainly. She had a small basket in her hands, and she looked down at the contents and mumbled, “I-I’ve got some bandages here. For the Herald.”

Solas nodded at her and beckoned her close. When she stood beside U’Din, the blond thought she looked familiar. And then it hit him—

“You.” He began, slightly dazed. “It’s you. From before.”

“Y-Yes, my lord. And, um, from a while ago.” She said, bending down to give Solas the basket of supplies. She was about to turn away, but one look at U’Din made her stay. She bowed her head and said, “T-Thank you so much for saving me. _Us_. I—We owe you our lives, Your Worship. We thought we were doomed but—we’re alive. Thanks to you.”

She bowed again and left quickly, obviously uncomfortable being around so many “important” people. U’Din would beg to differ, but with Solas nearby he’d most likely get another lecture. Instead, he kept quiet and watched her leave, recalling how he stumbled upon the servants quarters as he searched Haven for survivors. If U’Din had gone to the Chantry like Cullen wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to save her. And those other elven servants.

He sighed. But it seemed like everything he did to save everyone was for naught; they were all going to die, and U’Din could do _nothing_ about it. He clenched his fists and cursed.

Solas finished wrapping his leg and told him he was done. He stretched it a bit to see just how far it can go and frowned when he realized it didn’t go far. With the salve, the pain had dulled quite a lot, but obviously, a fresh wound shouldn’t be strained too much. He thanked Solas and stood up, but when the ground shook again he fell back on the chair and winced.

“U’Din!”

“Boss!”

“Droopy!”

“I-It’s okay. I’m—I’m _fine_.” U’Din reassured them. He took a deep breath before standing up again, and he limped his way towards the advisors who were speaking with a wounded Chancellor Roderick. The blond went over to the cleric’s side as fast as he could, taking in the man’s beaten-up appearance.

With his right hand he summoned healing magic and touched the man’s wounded side. The shem cleric mumbled a thanks, and he smiled briefly, silently telling him that it was no trouble.

“Brave man.” Dorian said beside the wounded cleric. “Stood up against a Venatori, he did.”

“Briefly.” Chancellor Roderick bowed his head. “I am no templar, unfortunately.”

“You don’t need to be, sir.” U’Din reassured him quietly. When their eyes met, he gave the man a kind smile. But it quickly fell when his eyes turned to meet Cullen’s. “How’s the situation, Commander Rutherford?”

The blond shem sighed and shook his head. “Not good. The dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“Has the enemy made any attempts to communicate?”

“No. There aren’t even any demands. Only advance after advance.” Leliana answered from behind them. She was watching as U’Din healed the wounded cleric.

“There was no bargaining with the mages, either.” Dorian added, frowning. He turned to U’Din. “This Elder One takes what it wants no matter what it is. From what I’ve gathered, it marched all this way just to take you, Herald.”

“Take him?” Josephine gasped. “You mean—“

“So it’s my fault.” U’Din bowed his head, feeling much worse than he already did. He finished up his healing and patted the cleric on the arm. He stood up and noticed that the advisors and his companions were now looking at him expectantly. He looked around, watching the wounded and scared whispering and praying to each other. He clenched his fists.

“If it will save these people,” He began. He looked at his inner circle determinedly. “Then I will offer myself. This Elder One can have me.”

Their reactions were immediate.

“ _Herald_!” The advisors all exclaimed.

“You cannot be _serious_ , U’Din!” Cassandra shouted.

“That is _out_ of the question! I can’t believe you would even consider it!” Solas barked, sounding particularly angry at him for his decision. “What good would that do? You’d only doom yourself!”

He glared at the hedge mage. “Then what do you expect me to do? Watch these people _die_? I won’t stand for that, hahren!”

“Herald, dear, don’t be too hasty. There _has_ to be a better way.” Vivienne sounded much more composed, but it was obvious that she too didn’t like his choice.

“Vivi’s right! Which is—well, _weird_ , but she’s right!” Sera butted in, ignoring the displeased frown that Vivienne shot her way. “I know that it’s like a hobby for you or something, but dying for other people isn’t going to do anyone good!”

U’Din looked offended. “Hobby? You think this is a _hobby_? Sera, I—“

“Look, Willow, she didn’t mean it like that.” Varric cut him off, giving him a look to pacify him. “But she _does_ have a point. There’s got to be a better way to deal with this mess.”

“Then what do you suggest we do then, huh?!” He asked them all angrily, flailing with his arms. “This fucking Elder One obviously wants me! You would ruin the chance to save as many people as possible because of _me_?!”

“ _You_ deserve to live just as anybody here does!” Cassandra shouted, rounding on him. Her anger turned to disbelief. “You can’t seriously think that the only way to save people’s lives is to sacrifice your own! _We’re_ in this together. We’ll _all_ find a way _together_!”

U’Din bit his lip to keep him from shouting at her. As _useful_ as that short lecture was, it was obvious that the enemy wanted him. They should realize how simple it was! All he needed was to march out there and—

“U’Din, we do not know what the enemy wants from you.” Solas’ voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he jerked when the hedge mage suddenly appeared in front of him. He sounded calm, as usual, but his light eyes were stormy as he glared at U’Din. “It would be naive of you to assume that once we hand you over to them, we’d be safe from destruction. We do _not_ know that. _You_ do not know that.”

“Solas is right, Your Worship.” The Grey Warden broke his silence and nodded at the hedge mage’s logic. “For all we know, they’d blow us to kingdom come the minute you walk out of here. That would be putting us in even more danger, wouldn’t it?”

U’Din clenched his fists. Damn them! Damn them and their logic! He breathed in deeply and turned away from them, but doing so made him share a look with Cole. The spirit looked crestfallen, and he could hear whispers in his head, asking him why, _why would you throw your life away like that?_ He shook the spirit’s voice out of his head and turned back to his companions.

“All right, you—you all make a fair point.” He conceded, but he still looked upset. “Then what should we do? We can’t—I _won’t_ let these people die. Not without a fight.”

“Trust us, Willow, nobody wants _that_.” Varric said drily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I would have suggested more trebuchets, but they’re obviously no longer an option.” Dorian answered, hoping to add a bit of lightness to the tense conversation. Some glared at him for that, but he didn’t really care. “Too bad, though. That landslide you created was very promising. Another one would change the course of this battle.”

“Actually—there _are_.” Cullen sounded enlightened as he thought about the suggestion. “We have one last trebuchet. If we use that and turn it towards the mountain—“

“We’d bury Haven if we do that!” U’Din exclaimed. He shook his head violently. “No, no, _no_! With all due respect, Commander, I won’t allow that! Killing everyone _isn’t_ an option!”

“But sacrificing _you_ is?” Cullen shot back, glaring. “This is _not_ survivable now, Herald. The only choice left is how spitefully we end this.”

“So what’s the difference between that and me offering myself? At least _my_ plan has a chance of allowing these people to live!”

“ _Both_ are unacceptable, really.” Dorian cut in, looking in between the two arguing blonds. “I didn’t race all the way here to warn you about this invasion only to have you drop rocks on my head.”

“Then we just submit? Let him kill us?” Cullen challenged, turning towards Dorian.

“Dying is usually the _last_ resort. Not the first!” Dorian said as calmly as possible. He looked at the two blonds and added, “ _You_ are a templar. And _you_ are the Herald of Andraste. With such low regard for life, both of you dolts are thinking like blood mages!”

“L- _Low_ regard for life?!”

“How _dare_ you—“

“Wait! I have a suggestion.”

They all turned to Chancellor Roderick who had spoken up amidst the arguing. He struggled to sit up, and Dorian had bent down to help him. U’Din would have done it himself if his leg hadn’t kept him from making sudden movements. The cleric looked at all of them before speaking again.

“Th-There is a path.” He began, coughing a bit. “You—You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape.”

“The Pilgrim’s Path? Thank the Maker!” Cassandra sighed in relief.

“It’s still passable? I heard it was overgrown.” Leliana asked.

“It is. And it was whim that I walked that path; I hadn’t meant to start on it. But it seems like _she_ wanted me to see. She— _Andraste_ wanted to me to see so I could... tell _you_.” Roderick had stood up by then, and he turned to U’Din with a strange look on his face.

“C-Chancellor Roderick?” The blond prompted, uncertain of what to make of the way the cleric was looking at him.

“With so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers—“ The man chuckled slightly, looking mystified. “If this simple memory can save us, _this_ could have been more than just an accident. _You_ could be more. I—I don’t know, Herald. This just seems so...”

U’Din’s eyes lit up in realization. Oh. This man was... having a moment of faith, he supposed. He saw it happen on many occasions back at the clan when the hunters would bring home more food than normal, or when he would successfully heal a sick clansman. He always felt uncomfortable during those times—this was no exception.

Still. He knew what he had to do. He turned to Cullen and said, “So there you have it—let’s go through with your plan. You take the people down that path Chancellor Roderick is talking about while I go out there and distract this Elder One. I’ll take back the time that was stolen from us.”

“And when the mountain falls? What about you?”

U’Din didn’t answer. He just turned away and frowned, hoping that they would... understand without him saying it. Or they could take his silence as an “I don’t know” or “I’ll try to make it out.” Either way, he was set on doing this. He was the only one who had nothing to lose.

“ _Ugh_ , Droopy! You’re going back to that self-sacrificing thing you always keep doing!” Sera looked just about ready to pull her hair out. “Are you _really_ that mental? You should—“

U’Din took his staff and blasted a hole through the Chantry doors with a fire ball. Without waiting for his companions to react, he blurred through the small opening, leaving his inner circle to gape at his fast exit.

“Did he—Did he _just_ —?” Sera made gripping motions with her hands, as if she was imagining circling them around a certain blond’s neck.

The necromancer laughed despite the situation. “Perhaps he _can_ take the Elder One by surprise!”

Solas gaped at where he last saw U’Din and shook his head, growling. He took his staff and ran through the hole as well, intent on helping the Herald. Sera growled and followed him out.

“Baldy, wait for me!”

“Solas! Sera!” Cassandra called out, but it was too late. The elves have already left the Chantry. She ran a hand down her face and made frustrated noises. “ _Oh_ , U’Din will be the death of me! Really!”

“Someone else should follow them. A warrior.” Leliana said. She turned to the Qunari and said, “Iron Bull—“

“Wayyy ahead of you, Red.” Iron Bull hoisted his battleaxe on his shoulder. He turned to the group and asked, “Any last minute instructions to tell the boss?”

“I’m going to assign a few soldiers to load the trebuchets for him. Tell him to keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line, and then fire when he sees a flare up in the air.” He said, pointing at a pair of soldiers who just passed them by. “If we are to have a chance—if _he_ is to have a chance, he should let that thing hear him. It’s important that he knows this!”

“Right.” Iron Bull acknowledged. He nodded at the group before running out to catch up to the hasty elves.

“You sure that’s enough?” Blackwall asked. “I could go out there m’self. The Herald might need more help with that leg of his—“

“As much as it pains me to admit, we need more help here.” Cullen said. He turned to the people and called out for the soldiers. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Everyone, quickly! _Move_!”

The Chantry was noisy with hustle and bustle, and Cullen turned to the other companions and told them to help out with the evacuation. Cole had vanished into the shadows right before anyone could notice him. Everyone was quickly distributed, and Dorian volunteered to help Chancellor Roderick lead everyone to safety. The cleric gratefully accepted his help.

“Thank you, young man.”

“It is no trouble, Chancellor. Do we go through here?”

“Yes. There’s a secret path in the dungeons. There’s a switch.”

“Ahh. Secret passages. The staple of many a stronghold. Should have guessed.”

“This place is particularly old. Such mechanisms were revolutionary at the time this Chantry was built.” Roderick said, chuckling lightly. Then he sobered and turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “Will he—Will the Herald be all right? He left so suddenly, I never—“

“From what I’ve seen so far, he’s pretty tough. Did you _see_ his leg? I did. Not pretty. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” Dorian reassured him.

“...I was so unfriendly to him. Cruel, even.” Roderick began, looking dazed as he mechanically “walked” towards the end of the dungeon. “I had discredited his accomplishments many times because I believed him to be a fraud. Or the actual perpetrator. But I clearly see now that I was wrong. He has a pure heart, that lad. I wish I could have asked for forgiveness when I had the chance.”

“If he has a pure heart like you say, I’m sure the man will forgive you. Although we _do_ have to make it out of here first for any forgivenesses or apologies to be given, hm?”

The cleric chuckled. “You’re quite right. If he is really meant for this, if this Inquisition is truly meant for this... then I’ll pray for him. Can I ask just one more thing of you, young man?”

“It’s Dorian. And what is it, Chancellor?”

“...Please tell him I’m sorry. And thank you.” Roderick said, reaching out to grab the torch that served as the switch. He pulled it down, and it clicked. “Just in case I don’t get to.”

 

* * *

 

The warrior gurgled as U’Din sliced his throat using his spirit sword. He hissed slightly and shook his hand, feeling the burn of the magic coursing through his veins. But with his entire left hand numb, the pain was not as unbearable. He looked at his spirit sword and frowned at it.

Well. At least now he knew it had _some_ use, wherever it came from.

He heard a battle cry from behind, and he quickly maneuvered to parry a blow with his spirit sword. The enemy then drew back right after U’Din saw white flashes appear diagonally across his body. Before he could fully question what they were, he was surrounded. He quickly summoned a static cage around him and the Venatori, trapping them all. While the enemies were taken aback, he sent out strong mental waves that sent the enemies flying towards the electrical cage’s boundary, shocking and paralyzing them all at once.

He stepped out of the cage and expected everything to be over, but a bulky warrior took him by surprise. He was about to blur away when the warrior suddenly froze—literally.

U’Din blinked. _What_ —

Arrows whizzed past him, and the spark at the tail of one of the arrows made him back away as far as he could. He turned his head away when the frozen enemy exploded, and before he could react to the gory scene in front of him, he was suddenly pulled by the hair.

He saw a very _angry_ Sera. Upside down. Or wait, maybe _he_ was the one upside down. “What—“

“You little _shit_!” She spat, letting go of his hair roughly, causing him to fall on his back. Then she looked regretful. “Oh, wait, _shite_ , your leg! Sorry! But—But it’s your fault! You left without waiting for any of us you dirty, sneaky little—“

“Sera, please refrain from causing U’Din unnecessary damage.” Solas appeared behind her, using his staff as a cane. He turned to U’Din and looked very, _very_ disapproving. “U’Din, that was highly irresponsible of you. Did you expect to take on these enemies by yourself?”

“I would have managed.” U’Din breathed out. Then he growled at the two of them. “Anyway, why are you two here?! Do you realize what could happen out here? What’s the point of you two dying along with me if—“ The blond closed his mouth when he realized he had said too much.

Solas’ eyes widened. “So you _do_ expect to die.”

“Friggin’ turd! Why do you want to die so badly, huh?!” Sera exclaimed. Then she looked conflicted. “Does that mean—when you did _that_ , you were just—“

“Of course not! I did it to protect you!” U’Din interjected, knowing what she meant.

They heard a ruckus from behind them, and they saw Iron Bull fighting a group of Venatori. U’Din growled in frustration and blurred his way to help the Qunari. He put a barrier around the warrior and struck one of the Venatori with his spirit sword. He did a “strike, strike” combo one each of them: strike with his spirit sword, then strike with lightning while moving in and out of combat.

Iron Bull cheered as he swung his battleaxe. “Hah, hah, all right, boss! Sock it to ‘em!”

Blue glyphs appeared beneath him, and U’Din blurred out of the way before the ice consumes him along with the Venatori. When all the enemies were frozen, Iron Bull simply swung his battleaxe to shatter them to pieces. Even if they were to unfreeze, they sure as heck wouldn’t survive _that_.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Sera came up to them. She looked particularly impressed with U’Din. “Those were some nasty sick moves! Didn’t know you could move like that. And seriously, I’ll never get used to that sword thing. I almost forgot you had it.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself, U’Din. You should remember that your leg was just wounded.” Solas’ said sternly, but he sighed and nodded. “But that was... very good. Well done.”

“Solas just doesn’t want to admit that he’s impressed.” Sera grinned, earning herself a glare from the hedge mage.

“As much as _I_ want to admit that I’m impressed—and believe me, I am because those moves were _amazing_ —Cullen told me to relay last minute instructions to you, boss.”

U’Din listened as Iron Bull told him the instructions regarding the trebuchet firing. He found out that he would need to man it himself, then fire when he sees a flare light up in the sky. The Qunari pointed where the trebuchet was, and they wasted no time to get to it. On the way, they encountered more enemies, but they quickly dispatched them. U’Din also noticed white flashes appearing whenever an enemy got too close to him.

He groaned. Oh no, not Cole too!

“Hey Droopy, not that I’m complaining ‘bout you not being useless or anythin’ but,” Sera paused her shooting as U’Din cranked up the trebuchet. They guarded his back while he loaded up the siege equipment, allowing them to have more time. “You seem kind of—I dunno, _healthy_? For a guy who just got his leg burnt and stuff, anyway. You sure you all right?”

“Sera has a point.” Solas grunted as he froze a few enemies for the Qunari to shatter (gleefully, at that). He turned to look at U’Din’s bandaged leg. “You’re not enduring the pain, are you? If you’re having difficulty—“

“My leg,” U’Din paused the cranking and shook the ache out of his hands. Man, these wheels were hard to turn! “Is fine. The salve helps stop the spreading, but it also numbs the pain. It’s fine as long as I don’t start kicking something with it.”

“Oh.” Sera said. She turned away for a moment to shoot arrows at mages (right through their heads, yeah!) before scrunching her nose at U’Din. “That paste thing is weird. Your sickness is weird, too. It’s not contagious now, is it?”

“I hardly think that’s an appropriate question, Sera.” Solas said, shaking his right hand a bit. He felt a strange itch, but he couldn’t be bothered to stop focusing on the enemy now.

“What? Droopy’s not offended. Wait, are you?”

U’Din didn’t have time to answer because he had to dodge a nasty fireball aimed at his head. He looked up to see a mage blasting spells at them, and he had to move quickly to avoid their powerful spells. Whoever that was, they were pretty formidable. He moved closer to engage the newcomer in close combat, but when one of their spells lit their face, he froze.

It was... Grand Enchanter Fiona!

“So the rebel mages _have_ joined the Venatori.” Solas spoke from beside him, covering them both in a barrier. He clucked his tongue. “This bodes poorly.”

“What do we do?” U’Din asked, not fond of the idea of battling someone he knew. She wasn’t someone he was close with but... she was one of their own. Of course, Solas wouldn’t think of her like _that_ but—

“The only thing we can do, U’Din.” The older elf said gravely. He started forming a stone fist on the tip of his staff. “End her misery.”

U’Din dreaded that answer, but... he expected it. He noticed the bandage on his left arm coming loose and decided to get rid of it since it served no purpose. The veins on his corrupt arm lit up as he charged his spirit sword, readying himself to attack.

He vanished in a blur and appeared right in front of the Grand Enchanter.

She drew back when he struck at her barrier, causing sparks to fly between the blade and the magical wall. He struck at it with quick, consecutive strikes before drawing back to cast his a barrier around himself to shield him from her own attacks. They danced for what seemed like hours, both skillfully deflecting and countering each other’s attacks.

Well, Fiona wouldn’t be Grand Enchanter for nothing now, would she? But being impressed with his enemy wasn’t going to help him now. He needed some leverage—something to take her by surprise. Then it hit him.

“Cole, flank her!” He shouted, and immediately he felt the environment shift. White flashes struck at her barrier from both sides, helping him in depleting its power. She looked confused since she could not see what was inflicting extra damage on her barrier, and her desperation led her to collect vast amounts of ice magic in her hands.

His eyes widened. She was going to summon a blizzard. He growled and shouted, “Cole, get out of the way!”

The area around him started to get cold. The tips of his hair became ice, and his felt his eyes stinging and his legs becoming stiff. But thanks to his training, he had enough mental fortitude to withstand the freezing onslaught. Squinting his eyes, he pinpointed where Fiona was within the cold storm and collected magic in his hand.

His eyes flashed. Now it was _his_ turn.

Moving on pure instinct, he pulled magic from the Veil and cloaked it around him, vanishing for a few seconds. He moved with grace as he ran towards the Grand Enchanter within the cold cage, and he passed through her without her noticing at first.

But when she did, it was too late.

The blizzard stopped almost immediately after he impaled her with his spirit sword. She gurgled, and blood spilled out of her mouth. U’Din winced at the sound from behind her, but he kept at it. He pushed the spirit sword further and, true to his style, sent electric shocks through the sword to strike at her heart. She briefly went into shock before dropping dead like a doll.

He pulled the sword out of her before dematerializing it, and he held on to her before she could fall to the ground. He set her down gently and closed her eyes; a soft whisper escaping his lips.

 _Ma ara’banal’lan, y atisha nuva’venas._ You were my enemy, but may you find peace.

“What did you say?”

U’Din blinked and looked up to see Solas staring at him disbelievingly. He looked confused as he tilted his head, “I’m sorry, hahren?”

“You said something just now. What was it?” He demanded almost urgently, taking U’Din aback.

“What do you mean?” Said the blond almost dazedly. “I didn’t say anything. I was—“

They heard a loud roar, and both elves looked up to see the dragon circling the dark sky. They observed the dragon’s movements and cursed when they realized it was going to swoop down any minute.

“Boss!” U’Din saw Iron Bull and Sera running towards them. “Boss, I just finished aiming the trebuchet for you. What do we do now?”

“We wait for the signal. But _that_ —“ It roared again, and U’Din’s eyes widened when it started flying towards them. “Shit! Move! _Now_!”

They ran from the trebuchet as fast as they could, but the dragon was faster. It came upon them in a matter of seconds, and it breathed a strange fire that became crystal when hardened. The dragon followed U’Din with its breath, and it smartly separated him from his companions. He attempted to get close, but the fire made him think twice.

 _Whatever you do, you absolutely_ must _stay away from fire._

He looked back behind him and cursed at the dragon circling above him like a hawk. He turned back to his companions and saw them trying to reach him, but Solas’ ice spells couldn’t douse the flames. He flailed his arm. “Go! Get back to shelter! I’ll fire the trebuchet!”

“We’re not leaving without you, Droopy! Don’t be daft!” He heard Sera yell, but the rest of her yells were muffled by the dragon’s roars.

He flailed once more. “Just go! Save yourselves! Don’t worry about me!”

Sera was throwing a panicky fit from the other side, and Iron Bull and Solas looked so helpless. U’Din shared a look with Solas and silently communicated with him: they should go. _Now_. But I can’t— _shouldn’t_ leave without you! They held their gazes for a moment, but U’Din’s eyes flashed dangerously: YOU HAVE TO LIVE. Solas drew back and looked absolutely conflicted.

Then he reached out to the flailing archer and started pulling her away. She looked at him like he was mad, and she tried to get him to let go of her. Iron Bull sent his boss a pained look before carrying the archer and started running in the other direction, Sera screaming as they escaped.

“DROOPY!” She yelled as loud as she could. “IF YOU DIE, I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

U’Din nodded at her, though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him. Solas was the last person he saw, and he shared one final look with the hedge mage. The older elf nodded at him and mouthed something before turning away reluctantly.

 _Inasa._ Live.

 

* * *

 

“YOU TWO ARE GOING TO GET PRANKED FOR A YEAR AFTER THIS!!”

“Really, after leaving the boss to fend for himself, _that’s_ the threat you can come up with?” Iron Bull taunted, but he sounded grave.

“Sh—SHUT IT, YOU! I’M MAD AT YOU! AND BALDY! YOU TWO FRIGGIN’ SHITS LEFT HIM ALONE!”

“He’s not alone. Not really.”

Solas turned to see Cole running alongside them. Sera’s eyes widened as she pointed at the hat-wearing spirit.

“Holy frig, have you been here all this time?!”

“What do you mean he’s not alone?” Solas asked, choosing to focus on the most important detail. He still felt— _strange_ for leaving U’Din behind, and even though he knew there was a chance that the blond could make it, he still felt... he growled. If only he was stronger!

“Don’t blame yourself. It was meant to be this way.” Cole said soothingly to him, like a spirit of Compassion was wont to do. “And he’s not alone now. It’s going to help him.”

“It? Who’s—“

A shadow loomed over Solas’ head, and he looked up to see a large bird flying towards U’Din. Looking back, the elven mage realized that it was the owl. But what could an _owl_ do to help U’Din?

“It promised to protect him.” Cole said quietly, sounding a bit worried yet not. “It... promised. And it always did what was best for him, so I trusted it.”

Solas didn’t say anything. He just mulled over what Cole said and... silently hoped that U’Din would make it out alive.

Cole blinked when he felt something was amiss. He looked down at Solas’ hand and exclaimed, “Oh, Solas! Your hand—“

The hedge mage blinked. He looked down at his hands, and his right hand was red. It was the hand that itched a while ago, he recalled, and thinking about it now—he suppressed the urge to scratch at the strange rash and focused on the most important thing:

Where did it come from?

 

* * *

 

U’Din let out a shaky breath. Okay, he was doing this. He looked up and glared at the dragon circling in the sky. He reached for a lyrium potion in his satchel and downed it in one go. He shook the tension from his shoulders and focused on the trebuchet—and with one thought, he blurred towards it.

The dragon fired round blasts at him as he made his way to the trebuchet, but fortunately for him, he was able to steer his Fade Step in jagged directions. He had almost reached for the trebuchet when the dragon was suddenly meters above him, and he had to draw back to avoid the crystal-like fire from scorching him.

The dragon landed behind him and stood dangerously close to him. It displayed its large, sharp teeth to intimidate him, but U’Din stood his ground and stared it down. The dragon took offense at this, and it opened its mouth to—

“ _Enough_!”

Air was pushed against his back, and he turned to see the Elder One—the _monster_ standing a few feet away from him. He— _it_ looked angry, raged. U’Din gripped his staff tightly, preparing to counterattack if necessary. Until he fired that trebuchet, he absolutely _refused_ to die.

“Pretender!” The Elder One called out to him, sneering. “You have toyed with forces beyond your ken. But no more. Your stumbling, your struggling—it all ends here.”

What was he going to do, _what was he going to do_? Cullen instructed that he should let the Elder One hear him— _distract_ him. That meant delaying the inevitable. He was good with that, wasn’t he? He looked the creature up and down and asked the first questions that came to mind, “What are you? Why are you doing this? Why kill innocent people?!”

The monster laughed lowly, mockingly. “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what _I_ was.

“Know me. Know what you have _pretended_ to be.” He paused, standing regally in front of the flames dancing behind him. “Exalt the Elder One: the Will of Corypheus!”

“I exalt _no_ one!” U’Din threw back, trying to ignore the warning hisses from the dragon behind him.

“Defy your fate all you want, but your life will be forfeit either way. You _will_ kneel, you mortal fool. You _will_ fear me!”

“Is that what you want? Praise? _Adulation_?” U’Din spat the word out like it was poison.

“Whatever I want, you have _no_ power to give it to me. And I have come for more than silly praise.” He reached from behind him and raised a strange round object. “I am here for the _Anchor_ , pretender. The process of removing it begins now.”

He heard whistling sounds when the object lit up, and he looked down at his ocarina to see it glowing brighter. His left arm was also doing the same thing. Corypheus reached out with his other hand, as if beckoning the mark on U’Din’s palm, and it responded. Painful magic shot up from his arm and throughout his body, and he heard frantic whispering in his head.

“It is your fault, _Herald_.” Corypheus mocked his title, clenching his fist and making U’Din stumble and cry out from the pain. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning! And instead of dying like the unworthy wretch that you are, you stole its purpose!”

U’Din cried out when his left arm suddenly vibrated, and the whistling in his head became louder. His ocarina also started vibrating against his chest, and he turned away to hide it from the creature.

“I do not know how you survived. But what marks you as “touched”, what you flail at rifts—I crafted to assault the very _heavens_.” The Elder One added more magic into his palm. “And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The _gall_!”

“Assault the heavens for—for _what_?!” He started tearing up from the pain in his left arm, and he could see the black skin cracking from the pressure. Fragments of the corrupt skin fell to reveal glowing green. He gasped.

His arm had completely changed!

“Your pathetic mortal mind could not even begin to understand my divine plan.” Corypheus sounded _much_ closer, and the blond shouted in surprise and pain when he was suddenly dangled up in the air. The Elder One inspected his left arm and sneered down at him. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in _person_. I found only chaos and corruption, and for a thousand years I was confused. But no more.

“I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, worm, for I have seen the throne of the gods—and it was _empty_!”

The Elder One poured his—its?—corrupt magic into his left arm and he cried out again. Red magic tried to penetrate the transformed arm, but it only cracked the surface. The Elder One’s vice-like grip shattered his arm, and the whistling in his head stopped for a moment.

Corypheus growled and threw him towards the trebuchet, and his back collided painfully against the wood. He slipped down, and he weakly looked at his arm, shattered and falling apart.

A soft whispering filled his head, and the whistling returned but it was much more... soothing. The ocarina glowed, and he could see wisps of green light emerging from his hand and into it. He watched, petrified, as the magic in his corrupt arm left to reside in his mother’s instrument. The veins in his left arm eventually stopped glowing till the arm was completely black, and he fell forward with a thud; his arm becoming as heavy as silverite.

He looked at his ocarina in alarm. What—What was _that_?!

“The Anchor is _permanent_. You have spoiled it with your stumbling!” Corypheus spat as he approached U’Din, thankfully not noticing what had just occurred moments ago. U’Din would have questioned it, but now wasn’t the time to be pondering about such things. “So be it. I will begin again to find another way to give this world the nation—and _god_ —it requires!

“As for you—I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must_ die.”

He heard a hiss, and he looked beyond Corypheus and the dragon to see a flare light up in the sky. He looked to the left and saw the trebuchet crank. He turned towards Corypheus, eyes flashing.

“ _Dhava ‘ma masa_ , you murderer! If I die, _you’ll_ die along with me!”

He cast a static cage around Corypheus as a diversion, and he sent out mental waves to push the crank to fire at the mountainside. The ammo hit the mountain, and an avalanche started.

Corypheus sent him one final glare before vanishing behind the dragon’s wing. The dragon carried him away to safety, and U’Din cursed as he watched them escape.

The avalanche starts its quick descent, and U’Din breathed out deeply. He leaned against the trebuchet and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable— _finally_. Peace. This nightmare was finally going to end, and he would be rid of this responsibility. Let it fall on someone who was worthy of the role. Someone like Cassandra. Or Cullen. Or... Solas.

The hedge mage’s face flashed behind his eyelids, and he opened them in reflex. He stared at the ground, frozen, and then looked up when he heard a hooting noise from above. It was the owl, and it swooped down and pecked at the rope holding his ocarina and grabbed it, carrying it away from him.

His reaction was immediate, “H-Hey! Give that back! Hey, _HEY!!_ ”

The owl flew over a pile of broken wood and pointed down at it with its head before flying down. U’Din stared after it in shock, and then he turned his head to see the avalanche just meters away from him.

He growled and cursed a thousand times before blurring towards the chasm, and he cried out in pain when he fell on the cold ground. His vision became dark, and soft hoots echoed in the dark cavern, lit only by a soft, green glow.

Then, he went out like candle light.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Merry Christmas? XD
> 
> So that ends the Haven arc. Took me long enough, right? OTL Idk you guys, I'm convinced that this is going to be more than 58 chapters since it took us this long to leave Haven. And we have, like, four more arcs to go? Plus this story's plot and romance/drama shit. Ugh. Sorry. You guys are in for a looooong fic. So sorry about that.
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments! And it looks like we're about to hit the 4000 hit mark! Lol, that's really something! But I'm more thankful for the comments and kudos you're all so kind and thoughtful to give me! :D Those are the best. This fic has become so special to me, so knowing that it makes people happy makes _me_ happy in turn! :D Hope you all enjoy my little Christmas gift to you, guys! Once again, thank you and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
> 
> Elvhen:
> 
>  _Ma ara’banal’lan, y atisha nuva’venas_ : You were my enemy, but may you find peace. (Literally: You [are] my enemy, but peace may you find.)  
>  _Inasa_ : Live. (Base form: ina meaning to live; inas (second person) + a (imperative form) = inasa)  
>  _Dhava ‘ma masa_ : Kiss my ass. (Got this from Fenxshiral's lexicon.)
> 
> I'm no linguist, so the phrases might be wrong. But yeah, just using Fenxshiral's lexicon as a guide, I'm not trying to completely follow his work since I'm trying to interpret it myself. If I get inspired, I'll go back to this and reword it properly based on his lexicon. But yeah, don't take this too seriously :P


	20. Harbinger of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THIS IS PROBABLY THE LONGEST I'VE GONE WITHOUT UPDATING THIS. I was so _itchy_ throughout the holidays because I couldn't sit down to edit and upload this chapter! Huhuhu, so sorry guys! :(( But I'm here now so... yey? :))
> 
> Note: Not beta'd. Also, this chapter was a beech to edit. So sorry if it sucks D:

One of the counters broke. _Again._

A cloaked woman clucked her tongue in displeasure as she inspected the broken crystal. Her eyes went down the line of jewel counters, and six of them had already dulled and broke, collecting dust on the stone table. She eyed the recently broken one and scowled.

And now _seven_ were broken. Three were left before she had to intervene.

She made a frustrated noise. Three of those broken counters had shattered in the last three months alone! What was that _woman_ doing?!

She sneered. The woman turned, and her long cape billowed behind her. She stepped out of the cave and flew into the night, intent on visiting a certain person to find out what was happening.

If _anything_ had happened to that boy before they were ready, things were going to get _very_ messy in the Free Marches.

 

* * *

 

U’Din woke up with a start. He gasped and held onto his stomach as he turned, trying to bear the sudden pain that stung his side. He panted, looking around the cold cavern in confusion. Where—Where was he? What was—

Haven. Corypheus. _Ocarina_.

He looked around and saw the ocarina glowing on the ground a few feet away from him. He bit his lip and sat up, heaving as he did so. The elf used his left arm to brace himself, but he slipped forward when it suddenly cracked under the pressure.

Wait. _Cracked_?

U’Din stared at his left arm and found it crumbling on the ground. He gulped and moved to touch it with a shaking finger. The moment he did, the joint on his elbow fell apart—and what’s left of the arm fell onto the ground, scattering dust. His eyes widened, jaw slacked.

He started having an attack—oh fuck, oh _fuck_ his arm just fell off and he’s stuck in a fucking cave was he going to die like this should he just kill himself now _what should he do_ —

A soft hoot. He looked around and saw the white owl perched on a nearby boulder. It looked like it had been waiting for him to wake up. U’Din would have been thankful for the familiar presence, however—

“Y-You!” U’Din pointed at it angrily. “You did this!! If you hadn’t taken my ocarina I would have been free! But now I’m in this shitty place and my fucking _arm_ just fell off and—“

The owl interrupted him by flapping its wings and hooting angrily. It flew down towards the ocarina and handed it over to him, and U’Din accepted it reluctantly. He gave the owl one last glare before inspecting the glowing instrument.

It was all right. Slightly scratched (no doubt the owl’s work), but it was fine. He wanted to test the tuning, but he remembered that he was missing an _arm_ , so there was no way to properly test it.

He sighed and shrugged, opting to just use the available fingers he had. He covered the holes and made a soft whistle, experimenting with tunes and notes with just one hand. His eyes traveled down to look at the severed arm, and the veins glowed slightly from the music.

His arm was still reacting to the ocarina? That... was very unnerving. Maybe Solas could figure out what to do with it.

The thought of the hedge mage reminded him of his other companions and the Inquisition, and his eyes widened. Were they all right? Did they manage to make it out of Haven in time? What about the companions who came along with him? He hoped they made it out okay!

He heard the owl hoot, and he looked up to see it hovering in front of an exit. It then flew towards his staff, and it picked up the neck to drag it towards him. He accepted the staff with a nod.

“Thanks.” He said. With just his right arm available, he struggled to stand up. The owl had flown behind him to pull him up by his collar, and he honestly found the attempt to help him adorable. It almost made him forgive it for scratching his ocarina. _Almost_.

The owl landed on his head and crooned softly, and he wanted to reach out to pet its chest, but he realized he couldn’t. He looked at the severed hand and bent down a bit to reach for it. He scowled at it, and he was tempted to just leave it here.

But... Solas would probably want to take a look at it. He sighed and put it in his satchel for safekeeping. He looked in front of him and stared at the exit, wondering if he should even bother trying to get out. For all he knew, there could be a dead end, and he would just starve to death and—

The owl pecked at his forehead, causing him to cry out in pain. He glared up at it, and the owl glared back. It pointed at the exit with its wing, and U’Din had half a mind to freak out because _what the fuck_? What kind of owl was this?!

More pecking came, and U’Din realized that it wouldn’t stop unless he started moving. He shook his head to keep it from pecking him again. “Okay, okay! I’m moving. Damn bird.”

The owl puffed out its chest in victory and rode on U’Din’s head as he moved, grumbling about overbearing birds.

 

* * *

 

He’d probably been walking for hours. The strain on his wounded leg was starting to get to him, and he had to use his staff as a cane to help him walk. Because he didn’t have any of his Keeper’s salve with him, he couldn’t do anything about the pain.

He paused and leaned his staff against the wall to dig through his satchel (and around the severed arm) for any supplies he could use. He had a roll of bandage, but it was practically useless since he wouldn’t be able to wrap his leg in a new bandage with one arm anyway. Besides, it was damp—the _inside_ of his satchel was damp. His father’s journals—oh shit he hoped they were still okay!

He pulled out a broken piece of a potion vial and realized that the potions he brought must have shattered on impact when he fell, causing his bag to become saturated with liquid. He scowled, trying his best not to let the situation get to him. The health potions he had no reason to mourn over, but the bag itself (the leather was going to fall apart SHIT), the journals, and the lyrium potions... he sighed. He could have used those.

The owl crooned softly on his head, and he gave it a reassuring smile as he resumed walking forward. For some reason, it was able to sense what he was thinking. He should probably be more concerned about that, but... it _did_ save his life. Even if he didn’t want to be saved at the time.

That meant he owed the owl a great deal. Whatever it was.

“I guess you would need a name now, huh.” U’Din told the owl. The owl looked down at him, blinking. The blond cocked his head to the side as he thought of a proper name to give the bird.

“Hmm, what about... Ghilan’lon?” He suggested, since it was sort-of like a friend and guide to him now.

The owl shook its head hooted, but it sounded almost like a snort. So U’Din supposed it didn’t like the name.

“Okay, then what about Salune? Hanali?”

It shook its head again. U’Din snorted. Wow, what a picky owl. Then he chuckled.

“What about—“

It pecked him. _Hard._

“Ow! Okay, sorry! But you were being so finicky.” He grumbled, stomping the staff on the ground petulantly. He huffed. “Well, if you don’t like the names I’m coming up for you, why don’t you suggest one yourself?”

_Duty._

He paused. He looked around the tunnel, wondering where the voice came from. When he realized the word was echoing in his ear, he panicked a bit. But then he blinked.

...Big and Noisy?

_No. Duty. To the People._

“...Shivehn?” He asked out loud. When the owl hooted happily, he blinked up at it in confusion. The owl was practically dancing on his head, messing up his hair. But he didn’t focus on that.

Big and Noisy, the annoying part of him that he tried to hide from everyone (but unfortunately came out every now and then), was saying that the owl’s name was... Shivehn. Or was Big and Noisy saying that _its_ name was Shivehn? And... why did that name sound so familiar to him?

Duty. To the People. He let out a sharp breath.

“Okay. Um. So I guess your name is... Shivehn now.” U’Din said, though he felt strange saying that name out loud. The owl chirped happily as he continued his way through tunnel, silenced by weird feelings and troublesome thoughts.

 

* * *

 

The owl hooted and flew a few feet away, showing him the exit. U’Din exhaled, exhausted from carrying such a heavy bag and walking so far in his condition. It also didn’t help that he was getting rather thirsty. But the light from the end of the tunnel gave him hope. He sighed and marched on, enduring the fatigue because _finally,_ a way out.

His relief was short-lived; demons suddenly appeared out of nowhere. _Damn_ his universally bad luck!

“Shit!” He stood his ground and lifted his staff to cast spells. It was hard to twirl it around with just one arm, he realized, so he had to adjust. He took a few ice spells from the despair demons since he couldn’t move around to dodge them. But he was thankful that they were just ice spells; he was resistant to cold, for some bizarre reason.

It took another few spells for him to realize that he was too exhausted to move anymore. He cursed when the demons started circling him, attacking his barrier to deplete it. He had enough energy to create new ones, but he’ll eventually succumb to exhaustion.

He was doomed.

The owl started pecking at one of the despair demons, and U’Din stared at the scene fearfully; oh no, Shivehn was going to get killed! He was about to call for it to stop when it suddenly coated itself in light and—phased through the despair demon.

U’Din blinked. _What_?!

As if the owl didn’t surprise him already, it passed through his barrier without a hitch. It hooted frantically, pointing at his satchel and at the demons that were left behind. What was it trying to say? He had no lyrium potions! He couldn’t do anything but recharge his barrier!

The owl looked angry and used its talons to open the flap. Using one leg, it fished out his ocarina and handed it to him. U’Din stared at it, then at the owl in confusion. Shivehn looked just about done with him. It whistled, then pointed at the remaining demons with its leg.

U’Din blinked. Did Shivehn want him to play his ocarina _now_? But... It was hardly an appropriate time for that! Unless—

Deciding to put his trust on the owl, he created one last barrier and balanced the staff on his shoulder. He started to play the ocarina with one hand—it was awkward, and the notes were wrong, but U’Din continued to make “music.” He sustained a note, and his eyes widened when a rift started to appear in the middle of the demons. It pulled the demons towards the center, damaging and disintegrating them.

When they all vanished, his jaw dropped. He held his ocarina away from him and stared at it fearfully. What the heck was that?!

The owl landed on his head and crooned, as if congratulating him on a job well done. He also looked at it warily, still shocked from what it just did. Shivehn gestured towards the exit with its head, and U’Din nodded.

Questions would have to wait, he thought. He had to get out and find the Inquisition first. But when he stepped out of the cave and into the blizzard, he realized he was going to have to survive _this_ first if he was to find anyone.

With the sound of the owl’s encouraging hoots, he marched, carrying the heavy burden of both the arm and hopelessness.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t going to survive this. There was _no_ way he could.

He sighed wearily, looking around him. Everything he saw was either white snow, grey wind or dark sky. His eyes stung from the harsh wind hitting his face, and his bad leg was starting to become difficult to move. He also had to remove his satchel and drag it around instead because of the weight, but right now he couldn’t move it. He fell on his knees, breathing shallowly and swallowing.

He was _so_ tired. And so thirsty— _hungry_.

Shivehn started to chirp frantically around him, and a voice in his head told him to _get up, U’Din! Get up!_ But he shook his head, too weary and exhausted to even look up. Even the weight of his upper body became too heavy to carry eventually, and his face met snow.

The corners of his eyes started to darken, and from the distance he could see the owl flying in the sky. Ha, an _owl_ was stronger than him. He’s so pathetic. His eyes started to close, but not before seeing the owl fly off into the distance.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there in the cold snow, but just when he felt like he was being lifted up from the ground, he let the darkness consume him once again.

 

* * *

 

“Is there still no sign of him?”

The key members of the Inquisition have gathered around a makeshift table where a map of Haven was placed. There were tick marks in areas, and some were circled and crossed out. One more tick mark was crossed out before anyone spoke again.

Cullen shook his head. “We’ve sent a few scouts to these areas around the settlement. So far, they’ve come back empty handed.”

“Is there a chance that he might still be alive?” Leliana asked.

“Of course there is. But the odds are,” Cullen paused, swallowing. “Slim. I don’t know how _anyone_ could survive that avalanche—and even the Herald of Andraste would...”

Cullen looked at the map mournfully and bowed his head. Josephine sighed beside him and said, “We never should have left him. We should have escaped together; Corypheus would have destroyed Haven either way, but at least Herald U’Din would have survived.”

“Why did you three leave without him?!” Cassandra rounded on Iron Bull, Sera and Solas. “You should have watched over him! He was injured, _sick_! But you left him alone to fend for himself!”

Sera pointed at the two men beside her. “It’s not my fault! It’s theirs! I _wanted_ to stay! I wanted to help him escape! But—But Droopy told us to leave! And _these_ two listened to him!”

“In our _defense_ ,” Iron Bull began, crossing his arms over his chest. “We _did_ weigh our options. It would have been difficult for boss to distract that Corypheus with us watching in the sidelines. In fact, that— _whatever_ that thing is, it would have gotten rid of us three first.”

“So that’s why you left? Because you didn’t want to be roasted by that friggin’ dragon?!” Sera turned and glared up at the Qunari.

“I left because boss _told_ us to.” Iron Bull responded as calmly as he could, but an expert at reading people could tell that he was getting irritated. “ _We_ had nothing to contribute to his part, Sera. We would have been liabilities, and we would have possibly cost him his life.”

“Or we could have _saved_ his life!” Sera banged her fist on the table. She looked further down the right and yelled, “Hey! Solas! Why the frig are you so quiet?! _You_ were the one who wanted to leave first!”

Solas shifted his gaze to briefly glare at Sera before narrowing his eyes at the map in front of him, choosing to focus on the matter at hand instead of foolishly playing the blame game. The scouts had already searched the left side of the settlement, but what about the right? That was where they left U’Din, so if a few of them were to go back—

“ _Solas_ ,” Cassandra turned to the silent elf and glared at him. “Solas, how could you simply leave without planning to retrieve him? You of all people know how important U’Din is to the Inquisition! If he is dead, then—“

“U’Din is _not_ just the bearer of the mark, Cassandra.” Solas bit out testily, looking up from the map to glare at the Seeker. “A few months of getting to know him should have made you see that.”

“That’s—That’s _not_ what I meant! Of course he’s more than just the bearer of the mark! Or the Herald of Andraste! He’s—“ Cassandra cut herself off and clenched her fists. She looked away and sighed. “I _know_ he’s more than that. I would... I wouldn’t be so upset about this if he wasn’t.”

“I doubt any of us are jumping for joy at the loss of Willow, Seeker.” Varric said quietly.

“Indeed. More than the Herald of Andraste, we lost a talented mage. And a kindhearted man.” Vivienne lamented.

“What do we do now, then?” Blackwall asked the inner circle and the advisors. “If His Worship is really gone, shouldn’t we be coming up with—“

“Stop talking as if he’s dead!” Sera cut him off. She looked at everyone with wide eyes. “Why are you all acting as if he’s dead?! Droopy could still be alive! L-Look, there’s this part here that you all haven’t—“

“Sera.” Leliana cut her off gently, giving her a sad, sympathetic look. “I know you’re upset—we all are. But there’s just no way—“

“What do you mean _there’s no way_? You all thought he couldn’t have been innocent at first, yeah? But he was!” She yelled, slamming her palms on the table. “He’s dead—or _seems_ like it. I dunno either! But—But we have to look for him to know for sure, don’t we?! We just can’t stop now!”

“The men are tired. Also rattled from the ambush and the destruction of Haven. And we lost a two-man team already.” Cullen explained, looking upset at the fact. “As much as it pains me to admit, we just don’t have the strength or numbers to send out another search party. _This_ part of the map is too far. And the blizzard is too strong—“

“Then why don’t _we_ look for him? We’re stronger than most, yeah?”

“Sera, it’s not that simple—“

“How’s that not simple?!”

“Buttercup, calm down—“

“Don’t tell me to _calm down_ , you little—“

“ENOUGH! This is getting us nowhere! We have to...”

Solas took the opportunity to slip away from the tent undetected. He squinted as he walked through the blizzard towards the nearest tent, and when he entered he let out a tired sigh.

“Mr. Solas?” He turned to see one of the Inquisition nurses approaching him. She eyed his hand. “Is your hand acting up again? With such few resources, we don’t have the salves to treat all the irritations right now. Perhaps you want another salve to soothe it temporarily?”

Solas shook his head and lifted his bandaged hand. “That won’t be necessary. It doesn’t bother me much anymore, thank you.”

She nodded at him and went back deeper into the tent, and Solas realized that he entered the makeshift clinic. He saw an empty chair and sat in it, leaning back and letting out another sigh. He looked at his hand and clenched it.

He should have stayed. He _should_ have stayed!

 _‘But what could you have done?’_ A traitorous voice asked in his head, and he shook the question away. As much as he hated to admit it, he was not as powerful as he was before, even though he hid much of his magical prowess from everyone. He could have tried to help U’Din back at Haven, but that would have cost them both of their lives. That—That was out of the question. Solas had a mission—him dying now was not an option.

But U’Din dying was also _not_ part of the plan. And now... he was gone. And Solas could do nothing to bring him back.

The ancient elf sighed mournfully at the thought, rubbing his hands together in restlessness. If U’Din were any other elf, Solas would have simply lamented the loss of the mark. But shockingly, _frustratingly_ enough, U’Din was not any other elf. He proved to be an invaluable ally, _friend_ —he was a man with a troubled soul, but did not hesitate to help others. He also didn’t take advantage of his newfound status, and he was humble enough to help servants. U’Din was... different. So different, that Solas truly felt pained at the thought of him gone. The blond possessed such wisdom and kindness that he had never seen since—

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Solas looked up to see the mage named Dorian standing near him. The dark-skinned mage sat beside him and blinked at his hand.

“Your hand still bothers you? It had a pretty nasty rash on it.”

“You needn’t concern yourself over it. The nurses gave me salve to soothe the irritation.”

“Ah, but it’s not _completely_ treated now, is it?” He asked. At Solas’ questioning gaze, he shrugged. “I heard a bit of gossip from the nurses while tending to Chancellor Roderick over there. They should really learn to keep their voices down. Or stop talking about others so openly like that.

“Anyhow, I heard the rashes won’t go away. And they look like they were caused by rather peculiar reasons. Mind if I have a look?”

Solas wanted to tell the other mage to mind his own business—because hello, he was _mourning_ over here—but he didn’t sense any malicious intent from Dorian. So, against his better judgment, he removed the bandage and showed Dorian his right hand. The other mage simply leaned closer to get a better look, and Solas was thankful that he respected personal space, at least.

Dorian furrowed his brows and looked between Solas and the hand. He leaned back and hummed. “Curious. The nurses were right.”

“Right? About what?”

“Your hand looks much less spottier than earlier, but it has this peculiar pattern on it. See those leaf-like spots on your hand? That kind of rash can only be caused by... rashvine.”

“ _Rashvine_?” Solas repeated incredulously, looking at his hand in confusion. He looked back up at Dorian to raise a brow at him. “That’s... highly improbable. I had never touched, nor even _seen_ rashvine since I arrived here in the Frostbacks.”

“They are bound to much hotter and humid places, yes. But perhaps you touched some sort of paste made out of it? It’s an ingredient used to make a tonic that turns your skin as hard as stone. And _Antivan Fire_. That’s a doozy.”

Solas furrowed his brows and thought about it. He never encountered rashvine here in the Frostbacks like he said, so how could he have developed rashes from it? But the skin on his palm _was_ getting rather rough. Despite the evidence, it just didn’t make _sense_. The only thing he touched was his staff. Some potions. And he also helped U’Din with his leg by applying burn salve and his Keeper’s... wait.

Before he could think further on it, the two mages heard a commotion from outside the tent. They looked at each other before scrambling up to their feet and leaving the makeshift infirmary. They saw a few soldiers standing in the blizzard, looking up and pointing at the sky.

“Have they gone mad?” Dorian asked incredulously, shielding his eyes with his arm. He and Solas walked towards them, and he called out, “Gentlemen, I don’t know if this is a _South_ thing, but when there’s a blizzard people _usually_ stay indoors—“

“There’s something up there!” One of them pointed up.

“It’s like a star. Look at it!” Another shouted.

“Should we call the Commander?”

“About a _star_? You daft? Commander Rutherford doesn’t need to hear about a _shiny_ thing—“

“Yes, but it’s getting awfully close, don’t you think?”

“What if it’s the enemy?!”

Solas frowned and looked up as best as he could, squinting. True enough, a dot of light _was_ shining through the blizzard. Observing it further, it got bigger and bigger until Solas could barely make out the shape of a... bird?

He heard a high-pitched whistle and gasped. It... _can’t_ be!

“It’s here. _Finally_.”

Solas turned to see Cole standing beside him, seemingly unbothered by the strong breeze the blizzard brought. He held on to his hat, but Cole keeping it from flying away was the only thing that made sense to Solas at the moment.

“What do you mean?” Solas asked, raising his voice a bit so Cole could hear him.

They heard another high-pitched screech, and Cole leaned a bit. As the screeching intensified, Solas realized that Cole was actually _listening_ to the calls. Eventually, the spirit heard enough to realize what was going on, and he turned to Solas, eyes wide, “Solas, they found him! They’re coming back with him! Shivehn showed them the way to him!”

The hedge mage’s eyes widened. _Shivehn_? That name was—

“Who showed who what?”

Solas turned to see Cullen and the rest of the advisors and the inner circle behind him. Cassandra walked further to the front to stand beside the commander.

“Solas, what’s going on here?” The brunette asked, shielding her eyes from the strong winds.

“I am just as confused as you are. But—“

When the soldiers started getting noisier, they all lifted their heads to see what the commotion was all about. Then, through the sea of gathering soldiers, they saw two silhouettes walking through the blizzard. As they got nearer to them, their outlines showed that they were Inquisition soldiers. But—

Wait.

Solas’ eyes widened when a silhouette _between_ the two soldiers became clear, and it looked like someone was being carried by the two soldiers. He heard gasps from behind him, and he saw Cassandra appear beside him from his peripheral.

“Can it—Could it _be_?” She asked no one in particular, waiting for the impossible to happen just like the rest of them.

The soldiers in the makeshift camp made a path for the two soldiers who Cullen recognized to be the missing team he had sent out to find the Herald. And right in the middle of them was—

“...Herald? U’Din?” Josephine whispered, just moments before the blizzard slowly decreased in intensity. It was still windy, but the cold breeze had vanished to show them what everyone thought was a miracle.

U’Din... was back. Against all odds, he was _back_!

Solas wasted no time and ran to the soldiers—to _U’Din_. The others followed suit. The two soldiers who carried U’Din back to camp were told to rest, and two others replaced them to hold the Herald. Cole appeared beside the soldier who carried U’Din’s satchel and took it from him.

Solas knelt down and held U’Din’s face in his hands, inspecting for anything amiss. The lifeless pallor of the blond’s face made him panic for a moment but—

U’Din’s chest was rising and falling. He was _breathing_. Solas let out a surprised, breathy laugh full of joy and relief—U’Din was breathing. He was _alive_!

“He’s alive.” He whispered. He turned to the inner circle whose eyes were wide as saucers. “He’s alive! U’Din is alive!”

Cassandra knelt down beside him and touched U’Din’s face. She also looked taken aback, but for a positive reason. A relieved smile broke out on her face, and she cheered.

“U’Din—the Herald of Andraste is alive! Thank the Maker!” She bowed her head, saying prayers in joy and relief. The soldiers and scouts joined in, cheering and praising the Maker for guiding their Herald back to them.

“You know, I understand that this is a very touching moment and everyone’s relieved and all that but,” Dorian walked up to Cullen and pointed at the heartfelt scene in front of them. “Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, treated? Warmed up, at least? Or whatever protocol there is when harbingers of hope survive an otherwise tragic experience? And you do realize he _is_ missing an arm—”

Cullen blinked and turned to U’Din. Indeed, there _was_ a missing appendage, and he quickly told the soldiers to bring him to the infirmary _immediately_.

Cole looked up at the sky and saw a bright owl-shaped light through the thinning blizzard haze. He blinked and nodded as the owl screeched, and the light vanished.

“Okay. I’ll tell him, then.” He whispered amidst the commotion, hugging the satchel to his chest. The spirit watched the Iron Bull carried U’Din’s unconscious body into a tent before walking up to Solas, huffing as he carried the heavy bag.

“Solas.” He began, and when the elf turned to him, he offered the man U’Din’s bag. Solas took it, almost dropping it since he didn’t expect it to be so heavy. At his questioning look, Cole added, “Take a look inside. Shivehn said you might want it.”

The elven mage raised a brow at him. But when he opened the flap of the bag to take a look inside, his eyes widened.

 

* * *

 

U’Din dreamed of waking up in a bright place. It was... some sort of open area, like a courtyard, surrounded by crystal columns entangled in vines. There was a fountain near where he woke up, and he took a moment to admire the way the water rose up and fell down. He stood up and turned, then frowned when he saw an abundance of gold on top of an archway.

Ugh. Gold.

He heard cheering from the other direction, and he turned to see a path leading to... somewhere. Curiosity (and the thought of not having anything else to do) got the best of him, and he followed the crystal and flowery path. The blond eventually came to the end of the path, and he came across... some type of duel? On one side was a warrior adorned in gold armor. And on the other side... a hooded figure carrying a staff.

Someone shouted, and two blades clashed. And that was when U’Din woke up for real.

 

* * *

 

The blizzard ceased a half hour after U’Din was returned to the Inquisition. But while the storm calmed, the camp was still abuzz with amazement and disbelief—the Herald of Andraste had returned. He had survived the attack at Haven. He truly _was_ touched by a divine power. The people, especially those who doubted at first, now truly believed that he was chosen.

But the sweet feeling of faith renewed eventually turned sour. And it happened when U’Din finally woke up.

At first, the advisors were concerned for him. He woke up feeling lethargic, disoriented, _hungry_ , and they all asked if he was all right. He wasn’t. Because holy _fuck_ , his arm was missing and the shock was finally catching up to him and _—_ _what do you mean now wasn’t the time to panic?!_  Cassandra had looked at him so strangely then, and before he knew it, he was being held in the Seeker’s embrace. Not knowing what else to do, U’Din patted her back as she expressed how thankful she was that he had survived.

Her hug was warm. _Nice_. But not as nice as Solas’ hug from before, he thought distractedly.

Then, advisors asked him about the monster that attacked Haven, and he told them what he could remember: that his name was Corypheus, and that he claimed to have caused the explosion at the Conclave and planned to use the mark to “assault the heavens” and “champion withered Tevinter.”

That’s when the shouting came. The arguing, the accusations— _what happened to your mark, Herald?_ The blond had hesitated; he didn’t know how to answer the advisors when they were so agitated. Didn’t want to. It was like that time with the templars all over again, and U’Din couldn’t help but be frightened. Their finger pointing then turned to each other— _if your scouts had made it in time—what do you mean_ my _scouts_?!

The blond elf gladly took the opportunity to limp away from the intensifying argument at that point, unwilling to be at the center of it all.

And that was when he bumped into Mother Giselle. She told him things. About the Maker. And faith. Things U’Din _really_ didn’t want to talk about—especially at that moment. Because if he had to be honest, he wasn’t exactly sure what he believed was happening anymore. Whether or not his fate so far was due to some higher power was not his concern—it was the fact that it had to be _him_ that needed to go through all this shit that made him so frustrated about everything. He was just a _Second_. A regular Dalish elf! He was meant to spend the rest of his life with his clan until his body gave in to his sickness. He wasn’t meant to be a religious icon for the shems. Or a hero who would triumph over Corypheus. He wasn’t meant to be anything like that!

Belief was not the issue here. It was something much more personal, much more _physical_. Corypheus was a real, _actual_ threat. Something that faith alone couldn’t stand against. Something _he_ couldn’t stand against. He told her this, and she did the most unbelievable thing ever.

She sang. The woman actually _sang_. About the shem faith. Then the advisors, the _people_ sang along with her. Some even kneeled before him! U’Din had been so dumbfounded and freaked out by everything that he could only watch it happen in silence.

“An army needs more than an enemy, Your Worship.” Mother Giselle told him after she was done. “It needs a cause.” She left U’Din then, confused and contemplating.

He sighed, and he watched the smoke come out of his mouth. He had been given a blanket to cover himself earlier, and the soldiers offered him a spot by the fire but—he hesitated. After Haven, he didn’t want to go near fire for a while. So right now he was sitting on a barrel near the brontos. Waiting for... whatever there was left to wait for.

He sighed again. The blond patted what was left of his left arm absently, and then froze when he realized he had _no_ arm to pat.

His arm. It was in his satchel.

He searched his body for his satchel, and started panicking when he realized that it was _not_ on his person. He started searching the camp, tripping everywhere and bumping into almost everything as he looked around. He started losing hope, and U’Din started to become so desperate that he was even willing to ask the advisors for it—

“U’Din?”

The voice made him stumble a bit, and he turned around to see Solas looking at him in concern. He blinked and straightened up.

“H-Hahren!” He suddenly felt self-conscious, and he tucked his hair behind an ear. “I, err, um. Hello. It’s—It’s good to see that you’re here. Alive.”

Despite himself, Solas couldn’t help but smile a bit at the blond’s greeting. It was... familiar. Very _U’Din-like_. He felt relieved. “You’ve caused quite the commotion, lethallin. First you survived the ambush at Haven, and next you inspired the humans to sing your praises—literally.”

The memory of the impromptu song number made him groan. “So the first thing you do after something like _that_ is to tease me about the shems. Great. Thanks, hahren.”

“You must understand my amazement, U’Din. The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. The entire thing had been... a queer spectacle. More so since _you_ were at the center of it all.”

“...Did you just call me queer?”

“Your paranoia does you no favors, lethallin. I was simply making a small joke.”

“At _my_ expense, you mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m starting to think you like teasing me, hahren.”

Solas chuckled in reply, but then quickly sobered. He walked a bit closer to U’Din and, after looking at the empty space his severed arm left, asked, “Jokes aside, U’Din, how are you faring? You went through a lot, and I can’t even imagine how you managed to lose your arm like that.”

U’Din’s eyes widened at the reminder, and he started panicking again. “Hahren, I’d like to continue talking to you—and I _really_ do, you know—but I _really_ need to find my satchel! Inside there’s—“

“Your arm.” Solas finished, and at the blond’s shocked look, expounded, “I saw. Cole said that... Well. He gave it to me, and I inspected it because I was curious about the weight. I saw your arm inside.”

“...Oh.” The blond’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he let out a sigh. “So you have it then, hahren?”

“It’s safe with me, lethallin. You need not worry.” Solas reassured him. After looking around briefly, he gestured to the hill near the camp and said, “We shouldn’t speak here. Let’s move to somewhere more private, shall we?”

Being alone with Solas hadn’t been an issue before, but now the thought of it made U’Din feel strange. He ignored those feelings and nodded, following Solas up the hill. The hedge mage turned to look at him when he shivered slightly.

“Are you cold, lethallin? We could go back to get you warmer clothing.”

“Oh, um, no. Not really. The cold never—“ U’Din cut himself off at that point and decided to change the topic, “Are we going to talk about the mark, hahren? I’m assuming that’s why you came to look for me in the first place.”

“Yes and no.” Solas replied. When they arrived on top of the hill, he approach the brazier that was rooted in the ground. He lit it up with veilfire before adding, “I _do_ wish to speak with you about a few things, but that was not entirely the reason why I came to look for you.”

U’Din blinked. “Then what is?”

The hedge mage adopted a strange, almost pained look on his face at the question, and he turned to look at the blue fire before answering, “You—I had thought you dead, lethallin. The entire village had been covered in the avalanche, and I...”

Solas trailed off at that point, and U’Din’s eyes widened realization. Also, he... felt touched. Had Solas been... worried about him? Sad about the thought of his death? The thought about the older elf caring about him enough to feel such things made the blond... happy? Relieved? He wasn’t sure what he felt.

“Um, hahren?” U’Din called. When Solas turned to him, he added, “You—Thank you for being worried about me. But I’m fine and in one piece. Well, actually, _you_ have the other piece of me—wait, no, I meant that you have my arm. Ah, what I’m trying to say is: I’m here so... you don’t have to worry anymore.” The blond ended lamely, mentally berating himself for acting like such a fool.

Despite his worries, Solas smiled at U’Din’s words. “That you are. And what a miraculous feat. How _were_ you able to survive, lethallin?”

“Well, I almost thought that I wouldn’t.” U’Din began slowly, deciding to leave out the fact that he _didn’t_ want to survive for fear of being lectured again. “But then Shivehn—oh, that’s the owl, by the way. I wonder where it went, though. Um, anyway, it took my ocarina and led me to this ditch. I woke up in a cave, and I walked all the way out into the blizzard. I passed out, and apparently the soldiers found me and... here I am.”

“Interesting. You named your owl _Shivehn_?” Solas asked. When U’Din nodded, he hummed and looked out into the distance. “Not many would use that nowadays. It’s a very... archaic name.” Not to mention it held a special meaning to Solas, but he didn’t bother mentioning that.

“Really?” U’Din asked, curious.

“Oh, yes. Naming trends among elves have changed over the centuries. Lately, most elvhen names have become too convoluted and too poetic. Or worse, saturated with blind devotion to the gods.” Solas explained. “But during the time of Artlathan and before that, names were usually simple; their meaning straightforward. For example, Shivehn simply means _duty to the people_ , as I’m sure you already know.”

“Wow. I didn’t know there was a trend. Though I did notice the one about the gods.” The blond said, recalling his Keeper’s second name.

“All cultures have trends. The shems, for example, used to bestow their children with names the Avvar tribespeople use to this day. But after the rise of the Chantry, the trend changed.” Solas added. After a brief silence, he turned to U’Din. “ _Your_ name is somewhat archaic as well, now that I think about it.”

“ _My_ name?” U’Din asked, confused for a moment. Then, he snorted. “Oh. Because it simply means _not alone_?”

Solas smiled lightly and shook his head, folding his arms behind him. “The meaning of words is arbitrarily assigned, lethallin, and it _does_ change over the years. Maybe that’s what your name _literally_ means now. But before, it had an entirely different meaning.”

The blond raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? And what did it mean?”

“Before the elvhen language changed, the meaning of _u_ was _despair_ instead of just _loneliness_ which can be the cause of despair. _Din_ was, and still is, thankfully enough, used to mean _death_ , or the lack or absence of something.” Solas threaded his fingers through the veilfire as he spoke, making the tongues of blue fire sway and dance. He smiled at it, then at U’Din. “Your name means the death of despair; _hope_. Which is all very fitting, considering the circumstances.”

U’Din didn’t know what to say. All his life, he thought his name had been given to him to mock him; an ironic reminder of how alone he _truly_ was. He had secretly cursed his parents for it, had resented the meaning behind it. But now... he learned that it had an entirely different meaning.

The blond shook his head. No, it didn’t matter what it used to mean. His parents couldn’t have known the archaic meaning behind his name; his mother had named him that to _reassure_ him that he wouldn’t be alone, despite truly _being_ alone. What an awful joke _that_ turned out to be.

“Speaking of the circumstances, though,” Solas began when the blond went quiet. “I must point out something very important to you, U’Din. Something that affects the both of us—no, affects _all_ elves.”

The hedge mage’s words pulled him out of his depressing thoughts, and he looked up at the older elf in concern. “What is it, hahren?”   

Solas looked back at the fire and furrowed his brows. “That orb that Corypheus carried; what do you make of it?”

“The orb? You mean that green stone that—“ He looked down at the spot on his chest where his ocarina usually was and swallowed. “Well, it appeared to be some sort of magical conduit. Like the stones at the tip of our staves. He used it to channel his magic, amplify it probably. Whatever it was, it was a powerful enough conduit to have caused the destruction of the Conclave, so it’s obviously dangerous.”

“Brilliant observation.” Solas praised, making U’Din shuffle his feet shyly. “From the reports of the soldiers that stayed long enough to see Corypheus, I have concluded that the orb he carries—the threat he wields: it is ours.”

“ _Ours_?”

“It is an elven artifact, U’Din; a _focus_ , or foci. Such things were said to channel the power from our “gods”, and some were even dedicated to specific members of our pantheon.”

“From the gods? But that’s... ancient history! Are you saying that there are such artifacts still in existence?”

Solas had a strange smile on his face when he asked that. “All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade. Echoes of a dead empire.”

“And these _echoes_ still exist to this day? I find that hard to believe.” U’Din said skeptically, frowning at the ground and crossing his arms—well, _arm_ —over his chest. “And you said these _foci_ were dedicated to our gods... what did that mean exactly? That they used to have these things?”

“That is a reasonable theory.” Solas replied rather vaguely, making U’Din’s frown deepen.

“If _that_ is the case, and I highly doubt it because I don’t even believe in the gods,” U’Din paused. “That would mean these foci are _really_ powerful. And dangerous. How could something that belonged to a supposed deity be handled so easily by someone else?”

“I—That is an excellent point.” Solas sounded somewhat sheepish. _Sheepish_. He cleared his throat and said, “But not _all_ artifacts belonged to these so-called gods. I can imagine that he found a particularly powerful one that belonged to a skilled elven sorcerer.”

“I... suppose.” U’Din relented, though he still had his doubts. “So I guess you found out about these _foci_ from your journeys in the Fade?”

“Yes. And I know what they’re capable of, as well. The destruction Corypheus caused at the Conclave was but a fraction of what that orb could possibly create.” Solas sounded so confident, like he personally knew what the orb could do. “However Corypheus came to it, if the humans find out that the magic that destroyed the Conclave was ours—“

“They would blame elves. _Us_.” U’Din finished, eyes widening. He gulped and let out a shaky breath, running his hand through his hair. “What—What are we going to do, hahren? Even though it’s _Corypheus_ who’s using the orb, the origins of the artifact will paint the elves as traitors, _villains_. What if another Exalted March happens?”

“Calm yourself, U’Din. There is a simple solution to this.” Solas began soothingly. “We must do our best to be above suspicion, to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but it has to grow if we are to earn the complete trust of the humans.”

“Wait, wait.” U’Din backed away slightly at the suggestion of being more of an icon than he already was. “What do you mean faith in me? What can _I_ do?”

“U’Din, you’re the one to whom the humans look up. You’re considered touched by divinity, revered for your accomplishments. Surely you see that only _you_ can do something about this?”

“But I—“ U’Din shook his head and raised his hand in front of him. “But I’m _nothing_ now! Have you _seen_ me, hahren? Look at me! I’m—I’m an invalid! My left arm fell off! I can barely use my staff anymore! My leg has gotten so bad that I can barely run! Also, I no longer have the mark! I lost it, and I’m _so_ sorry for losing it, but I—“

“You may have lost the mark, lethallin,” Solas cut him off, and he fished something out of his pocket. U’Din froze when the hedge mage dangled the glowing ocarina in front of him. “But you have _this_.”

Solas dropped the ocarina in U’Din’s right hand, and the blond stared at it for a moment before narrowing his eyes at Solas. “What do you mean? And why do you have this?”

“I noticed it glowing in your satchel when I opened it. It’s also full of magic that I recognized to be similar to the mark’s, so I studied it. That is why I was absent when you woke up earlier.” Solas explained quickly. He inclined his head at the ocarina. “For reasons unknown, the mark’s magic is dwelling inside your ocarina. My theory is that you can use it the same way you guide spirits to the Beyond to close rifts.”

“And you know this for a fact? How can you be so sure that—“ U’Din cut himself off when he remembered fighting demons in the tunnel. Shivehn “told” him to use the ocarina, and by sustaining a note, he summoned a rift that pulled the demons back into the Fade. He shifted his eyes to the ocarina, wondering what the _heck_ it was, and how his mother came across something so... strange.

He sighed and made a resigned noise. Great. Just when he thought he’d be rid of the responsibility of being _whatever_ the shems wanted him to be, fate just had to make things even more difficult for him. Perhaps there _was_ a higher power up there, one with a _very_ awful sense of humor. And U’Din was the joke of the year.

Great. Just... _great_.

He sighed and put the ocarina in his pocket so he could scratch at his head in frustration. He groaned. “Fuck this. Fuck this in the ass till it fucking dies. I’m never going to escape this fate, am I?”

“I can understand your frustration, lethallin. But look at it this way,” Solas approached U’Din and snorted at the side of the blond’s head, his hair bunched up and messy from the scratching. He smoothed it out, unaware of how U’Din froze at his touch. “If you leave or renounce your role as Herald, the humans will consider your departure suspicious. They will find out about the orb, and they will point their fingers at you. You remember how that felt like, didn’t you? Imagine then what it would feel like for those fingers to be pointed not only at you... but at the people.”

U’Din froze. He blinked at the ground and gulped, “Th-The people will... suffer.”

“Yes, unfortunately. But it doesn’t have to end that way, U’Din. _You_ have the opportunity to save the elves from the unfair judgment by the humans. _You_ have the means to paint the elves as heroes before they are viewed as villains. _You_ can recover the orb, so that nobody will find out that anything elvhen is related to this tragedy. It can only be you.”

“R—Recover the orb? But what does that have to do—“

“U’Din.”

“Okay, okay—but...” U’Din threw his hand up and turned away from Solas, sighing. He clenched his fist. “Are—Are you sure that only _I_ can do this? I mean, why can’t _you_ —“

“I’m a simple elven apostate with no extraordinary accomplishments to show other than assisting the Inquisition. _You_ , on the other hand, are the Herald of Andraste. Liberator of the Hinterlands. Savior of the Templars. Survivor of—“

“All right, I get it! Geez, did you _really_ have to...” U’Din trailed off, blushing in embarrassment.

“It’s imperative that you understand the seriousness of the situation, U’Din. Whether you like it or not, the fate of the elves, the _World_ , rests on your shoulders now.”

“Great. Everyone is depending on me to save the elven race and the whole World. And I can barely run or use a staff to save myself. Great. Fucking _great_.”

“It’s true that your disabilities will make your journey difficult, but I promise you that you won’t be alone.” Solas said, placing a hand on U’Din’s left shoulder and offering the blond a smile. “You will, at least, have me to help you along the way.”

“I— _Thank you_ , hahren. That—That meant a lot. Really.” U’Din smiled back at the hedge mage and, tentatively, placed his hand over Solas’ as a sign of camaraderie. That’s what he convinced himself of, anyway. “I just... Don’t want to fail. Especially now that I know that if I do, the people will—“

“You won’t, U’Din. I have absolute faith that you won’t.” Solas said, and he twisted his hand so that he was gently holding onto U’Din’s fingers. He looked down at their twin bandaged hands and said, “I have already told you that you are a skilled, _brilliant_ elf, U’Din. You have done things no normal elf—no normal _person_ can do. You’re special, worthy of the praise you’re receiving, and I will continue to say that until you believe me.”

“You’re—You’re just saying that, hahren.” U’Din stammered, not able to take his eyes off of Solas’ hand holding his. When Solas tightened his grip, he squeaked.

“I don’t say things unnecessarily, remember?”

“Well, you’re, um, g-going to be saying it for a long time, then.”

“I’m a patient man. And what’s a few words of encouragement if it’s well-deserved?”

“ _Ugh_.” U’Din finally pulled away that time, blushing to the tips of his ears. He covered his face with his hand as he turned away. “Your teasing is going to be the death of me, hahren. You are—“

“Solas.”

U’Din blinked and turned back to the hedge mage. “Pardon?”

“I—Call me Solas, U’Din. Or lethallin, at least.” The older elf requested, looking a bit sheepish himself. “You may have realized that I’ve stopped calling you _da’len_ for some time now. As it is, I would prefer that we see each other as equals from now on.”

“O-Oh. Um, wow. That’s— _wow_.” U’Din was at loss for words. He cleared his throat and nodded, doing his best not to smile too widely. “Okay, ha— _Solas_. Solas. Wow, that’s going to get a lot of getting used to.”

“I’m confident that you can get used to it soon.” Solas replied vaguely, smiling. He inclined his head towards the brazier and said, “But we have much to discuss still, lethallin. I have a suggestion about where the Inquisition could stay, and the location will benefit the Inquisition greatly.”

“Oh, all right. Go ahead and tell me, ha— _Solas_.” U’Din corrected himself before groaning. “Ugh, I really can’t get used to that.”

“Again, I’m confident that you can.” Solas chuckled and guided the blond towards the brazier, his hand on the blond’s back. “If not, then I have no choice but to simply call you _da’len_ again. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

U’Din scowled. “You know, I think I’m starting to prefer your mean, lecture-y side to this... mean, _teasing_ side. You’re the worst. I hate you.”

“Oh, U’Din,” Solas laughed despite himself, despite _everything_. “We both know that that’s not true.”

 

* * *

 

Cole watched Solas and U’Din talk to each other up on the hill with a smile, his legs swinging as he sat on top of the pile of boxes. He blinked when a light appeared beside him, and he turned to see the owl blinking up at him with its wide, black eyes. Cole tipped his hat at it in greeting.

“Hullo. Did you get enough rest?” He asked amiably, earning a hoot and a chirp from the owl. Cole nodded with a smile. “That’s great! And thank you so much for trusting me with U’Din’s bag. I wasn’t able to help that much at Haven, but—“

The owl started screeching, flapping its wings. Cole blinked as he listened to it “talk”, and he turned back to Solas and U’Din on top of the hill. He blinked again.

“Solas? What about him?” He asked. The owl hooted a reply, and he blinked in surprise. “But you said—oh, I’m _so_ sorry! I didn’t understand! I didn’t realize that you meant to _not_ show him the bag—“

The owl hooted more gently this time, but its feathers were still ruffled. Cole bowed his head in apology.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know. But I thought—I thought he’d be able to help! Is there anything I could do to make it up to you?”

The owl tilted its head and nodded. It flew and perched on top of Cole’s head, hooting something in hushed tones. The spirit’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, a secret! I can keep a secret!” Cole said, whispering enthusiastically.

The owl tutted and shook its head. Cole pursed his lips and nodded.

“Okay. I won’t tell a soul, I swear.” The spirit rogue said more seriously this time. “And if it can help U’Din too, I’ll do my _extra_ best not to fail you.”

The owl hooted, and the spirit sat there quietly, listening to the soft hoots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the plot is starting to thicken. Hahahaha omg. From this point on, I'm going to start dropping _major_ hints about who U'Din actually is. Some of you are probably starting to speculate or come up with theories, and there was _one_ person who's probably coming up with one that's REALLY close to the truth. But anyways, hold on to those theories until we get deeper into the story, ayt? Or you can share it, if you want. :)) Actually, that would probably be fun. Please do share! XD
> 
> The first Solas romance flag is nearing. Are you excited? I am because FINALLY. Solas is a frustrating bald weenie, so I'm actually happy we're reaching that point already ;___; Also, forgive me for making Solas playful at that part, even though it was supposedly serious. He'll have his own POV in the next chapter. To explain things. Hopefully. :))
> 
> So um. I'm sorry if the quality of this chapter isn't up to par, but I did try my best OTL But um. I hope you enjoyed it, regardless? :)) I'm also sorry for the delay; I was in the UK and EU since the 28th, and I just arrived back home on the 10th. Didn't have time to update this fic (though I _did_ have time to update WOTI). Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read, leave comments and give kudos! :D Feedback always means a lot to me, so I'm extra appreciative when you take the time to leave me one :3


	21. What the Future Has In Store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... this chapter was really hard to edit. Mostly because I had no clear idea what was supposed to be here LOL :)) But hopefully the next chapter will be better if this ends up being horribly received. Which I hope wouldn't be but... SIGH.
> 
> Notes: Not Beta'd, as usual.

_The young man looked up at the huge keep with worry and uncertainty in his eyes. He turned to a taller man beside him, and he scowled when the man simply rubbed his head endearingly. He grumbled under his breath as he followed the man through the crystal gates, and he admired the silverite owl statues on the pillars they passed._

_They met up with a woman in a dark hood, and she told them that they were expected—that_ he _was expected. The man inclined his head and, after rubbing the young man’s head one more time, started walking back where they came._ Without _him. He reached out to the man and called out, but—_

 _The man told him that he was to stay there from now on. Become a better man—a wiser,_ stronger _man. And here was where his talents would be of better use. Here was where he would do his family proud, and he would, because he was_ his _son. He said all that with a stern yet gentle tone, and the young man just hung his head and nodded in resignation. He listened as the footsteps faded away, and he didn’t move from his spot until the nice hooded lady told him to follow her._

_The young man sighed and looked up at the sky, wondering what the future had in store for him from that point on._

 

* * *

 

“Skyhold?” U’Din asked as he and Solas traveled back to the camp.

“It is an abandoned stronghold to the north, on the border between Ferelden and Orlais. My journeys in the Fade have led me to it many times, so I can assure you it exists.” Solas explained.

“A stronghold all the way out here?” The blond asked, though he did not necessarily pose it to Solas. He looked up at the sky and hummed. “It must be very old. Are you sure it’s abandoned? There might be bandits, or squatters—“

“The last time I came across it, it had no occupants. Although that was roughly a year ago, I have reason to believe that it is still vacant.”

U’Din made a little noise at that and frowned, and Solas wondered what was bothering the blond. Did he doubt Solas? The thought upset the ancient elf.

“Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s nothing. It seems like a great place for the Inquisition to rebuild and settle. It’s just...”

“Just?”

“Just—“ U’Din sighed and stopped walking, choosing instead to lean against a pole holding one of the tents up. He looked up at the sky and said, “It’s just a bit... I dunno. Convenient, I guess? I mean, Haven just got attacked by a monster with delusions of godhood, leaving us without a base. And now all of a sudden there’s just a stronghold _waiting_ for us to occupy it a day’s walk away? It’s just— _ughh_.”

Solas watched as U’Din scratched his head in frustration, and his eyes lit up when he realized what was going on. He shook his head with a smile and said, “Ever the doubter. Or is pessimist more of an apt description for you? I suppose it could be both.”

“Not a pessimist. Just... a realist.” U’Din corrected, smoothing out his hair. He played with the tips, and frowned when he realized that they were already breaching shoulder territory. The ponytail hanging on his right side was also already up to his abdomen.

“My hair is getting too long.” He flicked his bangs from his face, still frowning. He sighed. “I should probably have it cut already. I’ve thought about doing it before, but I held it off.”

“Why would you have it cut?” Solas wondered, roaming his eyes over the man’s blond hair. It looked surprisingly soft, given that he had just survived an avalanche and walked through a blizzard. Solas could still remember how it felt like between his fingers, and he almost itched to touch it again.

U’Din scowled as he smoothed out the ponytail, looking away. “I—It’s silly. You wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” Solas said simply. “I just wondered why you would want to cut such nice hair. It would be a shame.”

U’Din snorted, though he smiled at the compliment. “Yeah. But the bigger shame would be not being able to take care of it properly, right? It was longer when I was younger, and that was because I wasn’t Second yet, so I had more time to maintain it. The Keeper would make me all kinds of hair serums that smelled really nice, and I’d spend a lot of time taking care of my hair. I tried so many hairstyles, and Ellana used to braid and thread flowers through it and—“ The blond cut himself off, his smile vanishing instantly. He looked away with a scowl.

“Anyway, after I reached my early twenties, my Keeper advised me to stop growing it out. Also, I don’t see the point of keeping it long if I can’t take care of it. It’ll just get ugly and frizzy, and I’d rather keep it short and simple than leave it long and risk it becoming dirty.”

Solas blinked, and he looked away when he couldn’t stop the side of his mouth going up. He also took a moment to speak, because every time he did, a breathy chuckle escaped his lips.

U’Din noticed this and frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“I—I apologize, U’Din. I did not mean to offend.” He said, though he was still smiling when he turned to look back at the scowling blond. “It’s just—your reasons for wanting it cut are rather cosmetic. Do you mean to say that you want it short simply because you do not have time to maintain it?”

“Well. Yeah?” The blond answered, though he sounded uncertain. He narrowed his eyes at Solas. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing. It was just... a surprise. I expected a more pragmatic reason.”

“Not being able to take care of it _is_ a pragmatic reason.” U’Din huffed indignantly, standing straight and glowering at Solas.

“True, but a more pragmatic reason to cut it would be to prevent it from becoming a liability, like in battle. You, however, fear it being in a less than desirable state when left at a long length. That pretty much _screams_ cosmetic. I had no idea you were so vain.”

“You—I— _Shut up_. I just—my hair is sacred, okay? I _would_ like to keep it long, but I’m afraid it’s just too much work.” U’Din blushed and lightly bumped his shoulder with Solas’. The older elf just chuckled, causing him to glower even more. “You’re just jealous because I have hair and you don’t.”

“I _used_ to have hair, lethallin. It probably wasn’t as nice, though I had fashioned it more creatively. Yours, as Varric describes, looks like it was inspired from a willow tree.”

“You just gave me another reason to cut it.” U’Din grumped petulantly, but the reminder of the dwarf made him remember the others, and in extension the Inquisition. Thoughts of the organization sobered him immediately, and the lightheartedness he shared with Solas instantly vanished.

He sighed and kicked at the snow. “Look at me. Worrying about my hair when I have _better_ things to think about. Like how to tell the advisors about this _Skyhold_ you mentioned. I don’t have my priorities straight; I’m going to doom the entire World.”

Solas frowned at the blond’s pessimism. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, U’Din. You went through a lot the past few hours; you deserve a brief respite.

“But, as it were, you do have a point. The advisors must be informed immediately if we are to travel by morning. Do you need me to go with you?”

U’Din shook his head with a small smile. “No. It’s okay. I think I can tell them. I should... do it myself. I can’t keep relying on you forever, hahr— _Solas_. Ugh, I _really_ can’t seem to get used to that.”

Solas chuckled softly. He spied a few strands standing up on the back of U’Din’s head, and he reached out to smoothen it down. U’Din frozen under his touch, but soon relaxed and sighed.

“You’ve been touching my hair a lot lately, Solas. What gives?” He asked.

The hedge mage raised a brow at him. “Does the _sacredness_ of your hair also mean that it is untouchable to the unworthy, lethallin? I had no idea. I shall go down on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

“Hah, hah, _hah_. You know what I mean.”

“Hm. I don’t really know myself.” Solas hummed, threading his fingers through the soft blond strands. He twirled a few between his fingers, admiring the way the light hit them. “Maybe I just like the way it looks. Or, perhaps I am jealous like you said. There are a number of possible reasons.”

U’Din snorted, but he didn’t push Solas away. He looked up, and their eyes met. They held their gazes, sharing a few moments of intimate silence.

Then U’Din suddenly looked away from Solas, startled. He placed his hand on his chest and swallowed.

“I—“ He began, face turning hot. He quickly gave Solas an apologetic smile before backing away towards the advisors’ tent. “I probably should, um, tell Lady Cassandra and the rest about the plan. And Skyhold. So, uh—”

The hedge mage blinked at the blond’s sudden shyness, but then smiled when he realized why. Smirking a bit, he reached out and flicked U’Din’s nose.

The blond stepped back, staring wide-eyed at him and holding his nose with his hand. “What the fuck?! _Solas_?!”

“I apologize; I couldn’t resist.” Solas chuckled, looking absolutely _not_ apologetic at all. He waved a hand and turned away, “Best of luck then, U’Din. There are no trees around, so you have nowhere to hide anymore. I expect to hear the results in the morning.”

“I—You’re such a— _Solas_!!”

Solas chuckled as he walked away, shaking his head at the blond shouting gibberish at him. When he turned around the corner, the ancient elf let the smile vanish from his face. He looked over his shoulder, then swiftly walked towards his assigned tent.

He waved his hand, and small orbs of light surrounded his tent briefly before turning invisible. Once he made sure that the wards were intact and that nobody was watching him, he retreated into the privacy of his tent, wasting no time in thinking of his next move.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the Inquisition packed up and headed north—right where Solas claimed Skyhold would be. It didn’t take much to convince the advisors that there was a stronghold nearby; perhaps they had been desperate for a new base, or they trusted him enough to believe him. It also probably helped that _Solas_ , one of the more serious members of the inner circle, was the one who first mentioned it. And speaking of the inner circle...

U’Din looked over his shoulder and spotted his companions a few feet away—either walking or on horseback. He himself was given a horse, and he had been practically forced to ride it because _you cannot walk far in your condition, Herald._ Iron Bull was the one to help him up, and he was friendly as usual but—

His companions... seemed weird. _Looked_ at him weird. He didn’t know how to explain it since they still smiled or nodded at him whenever he looked, but U’Din sensed an odd vibe from them. Like they didn’t know what to make of him. Had surviving the attack at Haven changed their opinion of him?

Sera oddly kept her distance from him, too. She avoided his gaze and seemed like she was bothered by something. When he tried calling out to her, she just ignored him. That... hurt him a lot. Which was no surprise since U’Din had started viewing her as a really good friend. He hoped she would talk to him soon because he was too nervous to make the first move again.

Despite his uncertainty regarding his companions, U’Din at least was at ease with Solas. He followed the hedge mage’s instructions obediently and efficiently, turning where advised and stopping when told. But whenever Solas wasn’t looking, U’Din would stare at him. Like, _really_ stare. The blond didn’t know why he was compelled to do so, but... Solas really had nice features, didn’t he? Pronounced cheekbones, really great eyes—the blond never really cared about other people’s looks before, but he did find Solas rather handsome.

Everyone he was having lunch with stopped speaking and turned to look at him after that thought. Or, what he _assumed_ was just a thought. He blushed furiously when he realized he had said his thoughts out loud, and he turned to tell a stunned Solas that he was only _joking_ , what are you talking about—

But then the smug asshole thanked him for the compliment and said that he found U’Din quite attractive as well. The blond buried his head in his lap at the onslaught of teasing jeers (mostly from Varric) and really _loud_ laughter (mostly from Iron Bull). Cole patted his back, and Shivehn hooted consolingly in his ear, but none of it did anything for the blond because he was _so fucking embarrassed_. The teasing and laughing carried on even _after_ lunch, and U’Din did his best to keep his blushing face hidden while _still_ navigating and leading the Inquisition.

But eventually he had to look up because, right in front of him, was the magnificent visage of Skyhold.

 

* * *

 

“ _Remarkable_. Sturdy, as well.” Cassandra patted the stone walls; an impressed smile on her face. “Don’t you agree?”

“It definitely is, Lady Cassandra.” U’Din looked up from the book Josephine gave him about fortress and keep architecture. It was an interesting read, even though there were a lot of things in the book that already made sense to him. Strange. “Whoever had this built had an eye for functional design. It really is impressive.”

“This will make a perfect base for the Inquisition. I’m glad Solas was able to find out about it.” Cassandra said, looking up at the keep and nodding in satisfaction. “Yes, definitely the perfect base.”

U’Din sighed and said, “Too bad it’s a bit difficult for me to go up and down, though. I have to stop every ten or so steps because my leg starts to hurt.”

The small smile on the Seeker’s face dropped immediately at the reminder, and she turned to give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry that we haven’t figured out a way to help you move about. We had to focus on major repairs for the first few weeks, but I promise you that by the end of this week, we’ll have something for you.”

“O-Oh, I wasn’t _complaining_ or anything, Lady Cassandra.” U’Din was quick to deny, waving a hand frantically. “I was just, um, making a comment. But really, I understand that the Inquisition has to focus on making sure that the stronghold is sturdy and safe. I’m sorry if I sounded like I was whining or—“

“You didn’t. And I wasn’t saying you were.” Cassandra explained. She looked at the stairs with a calculating eye and said, “It would probably be wise if we bring it up in today’s meeting. We can’t have you simply on the bailey, or here on the lower courtyard. We have to find a way to get you inside the keep. Perhaps turn half of these stairs into a ramp? Or have a lifting platform built right there—“

“A ramp? A _lift_?” U’Din asked incredulously. He shook his head, “Oh no, that would probably be quite expensive. I don’t think we should waste more money on things like that.”

“Nonsense. The Inquisition has more than enough coin to make sure that you have access to _every_ part of the fortress. And we’re _already_ spending a lot on the repairs. Building a few special access points for you wouldn’t be an issue, I can assure you.”

“But—“ U’Din paused and looked around. Everyone was busy with a chore—lifting crates, moving supplies. The only person not doing anything was U’Din himself, and that was because he was specifically _ordered_ not to do anything lest he “strain himself.” He already felt bad for being idle, but now they want to create something to make walking easier for him? He didn’t want special treatment!

Cassandra frowned at him. “Why are you so against this? Don’t you _want_ to get around more easily?”

“It’s not that, Lady Cassandra. It’s just—“ U’Din made a little whine and looked at the ground. “I just don’t want to add more to everyone’s plate. Everyone’s so busy the past few weeks, and I’m just here sitting on my bum and being useless.”

Her eyes softened at his confession, but she still had a frown on her face when she spoke again, “I understand why you’re concerned, U’Din, but you mustn’t be so hard on yourself. Surely you realize that with your... _disability_ , we cannot risk you worsening your condition.”

“You can’t risk me being a _liability_ , is what you meant.” U’Din muttered a bit scathingly, _bitterly_. When he realized what he said, he shook his head and closed the book on his lap. “I’m sorry. I just feel awful for not doing anything when everyone’s working hard at something. It’s... I’m not used to it.”

Cassandra considered him, tilting her head. After a few moments of silence, she approached the elf and offered him her hand. U’Din blinked at it, but eventually accepted it. He let himself be pulled up, and he followed her to the base of the stairs. When she started walking up, U’Din looked concerned.

“Um—“

“Come. I’ll help you up.”

She offered her hand to him again, and he looked at her warily, wondering what she was up to. When she gave him a look, he sighed and took the hand again, and he allowed her to help him climb each step one by one, slow and steady. He apologized profusely for the slow pace, but she just nodded silently whenever he did so. U’Din looked at her in confusion, wondering why she wasn’t telling him off as usual. She usually hated it when he apologized so much. Or was that Solas?

They eventually reached the keep, and U’Din took a few moments to admire the entrance. Repairs were still going underway, but the blond can already see the possible outcome. The masons the Inquisition employed were very skilled, he thought.

He was about to ask Cassandra how long the repairs were going to take when he noticed that she had already walked ahead of him. He caught up to her as quickly as he could, and the two of them headed towards the far end of the hall where Cullen, Josephine and Leliana were conversing. Or arguing.

“I _still_ think the War Room should be _here_ at the undercroft.” Josephine said, pointing at a door nearby.

Cullen shook his head and pointed at the blueprint on the table. “It would be a waste if we close off the undercroft. The natural ventilation it offers would much better suit a smithy.”

“A _smithy_? But aren’t we already in the middle of building a smithy on the bailey?”

“That’s for smithing the weapons of the soldiers and scouts. The undercroft would be Harrit’s smith, and the Herald’s too.”

“The _Herald’s_? But how can he craft anything when he’s missing an—“

The three advisors quieted when they saw Cassandra and U’Din approach. They stood straighter and inclined their heads at them, saying their greetings. The two of them greeted them back.

“How are you, Herald U’Din? Are you well?” Josephine began amiably, smiling at him.

The blond smiled back shyly and nodded. “Yes, Lady Josephine. I’m okay. I read that book you gave me. It was very informative.”

“What book? Oh—the one I gave you a few days ago?” She asked. When he nodded, she added, “Well, I’m glad that it’s serving its purpose. The book should explain to you basic Ferelden architecture, more specifically keeps and castles. You’re probably not familiar with typical keep layouts, and it would be best for you to study on them.”

“I’ve been to Therinfal, so I already have an idea about keep layouts.” U’Din replied. He looked around and added, “Although, it would probably be nice if I could get a copy of Skyhold’s layout. Even though I most likely won’t be able to reach the higher parts.”

The advisors frowned sadly at the thought, and they all looked at each other in worry. The Herald’s disabilities had been a heavily-discussed topic among the four of them, and they all had their own personal worries. They all ranged from serious concerns (him functioning on the battlefield, for example) to less important issues (like him getting up to his chambers). 

“Like I said earlier, we’ll find a way to make it easier for you to get around.” Cassandra promised seriously, and she turned to Cullen and asked, “How would we go about that, by the way? There has to be a way to make the keep accessible to him.”

“I’ll admit it should be one of our primary concerns.” Cullen began, looking at the layout of the keep on the table. He frowned and scratched his chin. “I’ve consulted with the stone masons and architects and asked them how to make it easier for the Herald to get around, and they all said that they needed to finalize the new designs of the keep before making any possible ease routes for Herald U’Din.”

“Couldn’t they just design with the ease routes in mind already? That would save us a lot of time.” Leliana asked.

“Apparently, masonry is much more complicated than that.” Cullen replied, sighing. “Mason Gatsi said that the architecture of this place is quite old, and delicate planning is needed if we don’t want to accidentally mess up the foundation and bury ourselves in brick and stone. Why, just yesterday there was a worker who d—“

His eyes met Leliana’s, and she gave him a warning look while _subtly_ tilting her head in U’Din’s direction. The blond commander turned to the blinking Herald, and then back to Leliana to whom he sent a questioning glance. But he quickly realized what she was getting at after a few seconds.

“O-Oh, right. Well,” He cleared his throat and gave U’Din an apologetic look. “In any case, there probably won’t be an efficient way to get you around Skyhold until majority of the repairs are done. I’m very sorry, Herald U’Din.”

The blond wave a hand frantically in front of him. “Oh no, please don’t apologize. I understand! It’s not like it’s needed or anything like that, right? I mean, I’m probably going to be around the courtyard most of the time because of my leg. I don’t _really_ need to be here in the keep. Right?”

His question prompted the four shems to look at each other, and then back at him. The weight of their gazes made him feel nervous, and he all looked at them individually before asking, “Uh—what is it?”

“Well, actually, now that it’s been brought up,” Josephine began, making a note on her clipboard. “It _would_ probably be best to provide the Herald an ease of access to the keep, as well as other locations that would be difficult for him to access. Mason Gatsi and his crew should be informed that plans for that have to be a priority as well.”

“Very well. I’ll inform the masons.” Cullen said, nodding.

“Huh?” U’Din looked at all four of them in confusion. “What’s going on? I thought it was impossible to—“

“We need you to be able to enter the keep with ease, Herald.” Leliana explained. She looked at her fellow advisors before continuing, “Especially if we’re going to make your new appointment official very soon.”

“New appointment? _What_?”

“Okay, _here_ we go.” Cullen breathed out, shaking his head.

Leliana glared at him before turning back to U’Din, looking much kinder and reassuring. Wait, _reassuring_? Oh no, what were they planning to do to him now?

“Before I explain, I would like to request that you... listen to what we have to say before reacting, Herald. If you please.” She began.

Uh-oh. The last time they requested him to do something, it was about the templar recruitment. And they got so angry at him for what he did that he—well. Let’s just say  U’Din didn’t have the _best_ experience when it came to requests from the Inquisition advisors.

He made a small noise at the back of his throat and looked at them warily. “Why do I get the feeling that this is going to make me uncomfortable?”

“U’Din, _please_ take this seriously.” Cassandra implored with a sigh.

“Ngh.” He gave them each a look before nodding. “Okay, _fine_. What is it, Lady Leliana?”

“Before I get to _that_ though, we... have a few words to say.” Leliana started. She shared a look with her fellow advisors before turning back to U’Din. “We just... want to thank you, Herald U’Din. For your quick-thinking and sacrifice at Haven. And for coming back to us alive.”

U’Din blinked. “What—“

“Please let us speak first, Your Worship.” Josephine cut him off. “What happened at Haven was a tragedy—a horrific event that made an impact on history. On... _everyone_ who experienced it. I still remember all the fighting, the screaming, the—oh, do forgive me, I—“

“What we’re trying to say is,” Cassandra continued for the Ambassador when she turned away to discreetly wipe away the tears from her eyes. “We all thought that it was the end for us. And it could have been, we know that—but it was because of your bravery that gave us the chance to escape. Many people still died in the name of the Inquisition, that’s true, yet none of us would have survived if not for you.”

“Indeed. And despite our... altercations in the past—our _disagreements_ ,” Cullen paused to give him a meaningful look. “We just want you to know that we are grateful for _everything_ that you’ve done. And that... we’re very blessed to have you. We couldn’t have asked for a better Herald.”

U’Din was speechless. He looked at them, trying to find insincerity in their eyes, but he found none. And that shocked him even more—more than the words of gratitude, the confessions, it was the _genuineness_ in their eyes that took him aback. It made him feel funny, _weird_ but—it was a _nice_ weird. And U’Din realized why.

This was... probably the first time the advisors ever thanked him. He was so used to them nitpicking, pointing out his flaws and mistakes that the thought of them ever being grateful was the _last_ thing he expected them to be. They had apologized to him before, but they never really _thanked_ him. And now they did.

It was... humbling. And also very uplifting in a way. U’Din didn’t know how else to explain how he felt but he supposed he was... happy. Embarrassed too, but mostly happy.

“I—“ He swallowed and looked down to hide his pink face. He cleared his throat and said, “W-Well, you don’t _have_ to make a big deal out of it. I just... did what was right. To make sure that everyone got out safe. But um, thank you for... thanking me. I just—wow, I really don’t know what to say—“

“And we’re thankful for that, as well.” Cassandra interjected, smiling softly. At his confused look, she expounded, “Your decisions let us heal the sky, and your determination brought us out of Haven. You have proven time and time again that you are a man who does right for the sake of righteousness—that you would willingly give up your life to save others. You are also ridiculously kind and humble, not to mention very skilled. These are the traits that allowed you to stand up to opposition, to trials. To _Corypheus_.”

“Um,” U’Din began, feeling uncomfortable at the sudden flood of praises. He smiled uneasily and asked, “W-What do you mean?”

“What I _mean_ is that it is because of _you_ that we are where we are now. We couldn’t have reached this far without you. And we know this.” She shared a look with the advisors before turning back to U’Din. “ _All_ of us.”

“What are you trying to say?” He asked again, wondering what the Seeker was getting at.

“What she means is that the Inquisition requires a leader, Herald U’Din. Someone who has been leading it from the very beginning.” Cullen supplied, and the other advisors nodded at his words. He inclined his head towards him. “And that leader is you.”

“Wh- _What_?!” U’Din took a step back, but then he completely forgot about the flight of steps. He would have fallen if Cassandra hadn’t reached out and grabbed him in time.

“U’Din! Are you all right?”

“Y-Yes. I’m—Wait. No. _No_! No, I’m _not_ all right!” He exclaimed, taking a step back from her—from all of them. The blond elf looked at the advisors incredulously as he said, “You can’t—You can’t be _serious_! Why should _I_ be the leader? I have no experience! A-And I mess up a lot! Shouldn’t someone like, I dunno, Lady Cassandra or Commander Cullen be the leader? They’re far more qualified than I’ll ever be!”

“Your Worship, _please_ calm down.” Josephine set her clipboard down and approached the panicking elf. She gave him a reassuring look. “There’s no need for you to take this the wrong way. The Inquisition has grown, _changed_. The threat we face is much greater than we anticipated, thus we require more order, more _presence_. As such, we need a leader—an _Inquisitor_. Your deeds and accomplishments have proven that _you_ are the most suitable person for the role. And, frankly, no one but you _can_ fill the role.”

“But—“ U’Din wracked his brain for a reason, an _excuse_. “But I’m—I’m an _elf_. I doubt that many people would like the idea of following a _dirty knife-ear._ Wouldn’t you prefer a she— _human_ leader?”

“Why should your race make a difference? And dirty knife— _has someone called you that_?” Cassandra rounded on him, and she bore a look promising a world of pain. It made U’Din squeak in fear.

“N-No one! No one at all! But, um, I heard that was what you sh—I mean, humans liked to call us.” He added the last part meekly before quickly adding, “But it’s not like _you_ called me that! I was just—I’m—oh geez, this can’t be happening—

“Oh! Wait! I’m a mage! Nobody wants to follow a _mage_ , right?” He snapped his fingers as he exclaimed, and he was so desperate to find a reason for them to _not_ make him the leader that he completely missed the looks he was receiving. “S-So it wouldn’t really make sense for the Inquisition to have a _mage_ leader. I mean, we’re _still_ technically related to the Chantry. And the Chantry doesn’t like magic. Right?”

“That’s not true. The Chant says that magic should serve man, not rule over him. So technically, mages aren’t _supposed_ to be treated the way they are. And your being a mage shouldn’t disqualify you.” Leliana explained.

“But I—“ U’Din paused, looking down at the ground in concentration. After a moment, he looked up at them with a hopeful look. “I’m an _elven mage_?”

“Maker, he’s gone barmy.” Cullen snorted, both from amusement and incredulity.

Cassandra rolled her eyes at Cullen’s words before turning her attention back to U’Din. She gave him a stern look, but it was a lot less harsh than the looks she had given him before. U’Din didn’t know how to feel about that. “U’Din, I understand that you feel overwhelmed, and maybe even a little frightened of what this means but... you _have_ to do this. You’re the only one who could!”

“Why? Because you all still think I’m the _chosen one_ , or something? That I was divinely touched?” U’Din asked incredulously.

“I’m not asking you to believe, U’Din. You have... no clear beliefs whatsoever, but I respect that.” She paused. “Truthfully, _I_ believe that the Maker intended you for this. He chose you out of _all_ His creations because you have the means to lead us to victory. How you’re going to do that is entirely up to you, but I have absolute faith that you can save the people and the World.”

“And just _how_ do you think I can save the—“ U’Din cut himself off at that point, and he looked at the ground, wide-eyed. Two things stuck out from what Cassandra told him, and he swallowed as he let the words echo in his head.

The people. The _World_. If he left or did nothing, everyone will suffer. And he’ll be the one at fault. He’ll be the one to blame. He’ll... fail everyone.

_You remember how that felt like, didn’t you?_

He let out a shaky breath and turned away from them, rubbing the side of his head in frustration and helplessness. He knew he promised Solas that he would be better—that he would _try_ to make sure that the people won’t suffer and that the World would be saved. But he didn’t expect that to mean that he’d be the one calling the shots! He wasn’t even used to being the Herald of Andraste yet! Now he had to be... what did they call it? _Inquisitor_? U’Din could barely keep up!

All the while, the advisors observed his behavior. They looked at each other and communicated silently, sharing looks of worry, anticipation... _hope_. Cassandra walked towards U’Din and tapped him on the shoulder, making him turn around and stare at her with confused, frightened eyes. She felt sympathy at the look, and she took a deep breath before saying:

“Even though you won’t admit it, you most likely know that what we say is true. There can be no other Inquisitor. No one but you.”

U’Din bit his lip and turned away. “But why would you want me to be the Inquisitor _now_? I mean look at me: I’m—I’m an _invalid_ , Lady Cassandra. I don’t think I can fight the way I used to. I’m going to be a liability out there, and I’ll probably cost more lives than I can save.

“I’m—I’m truly _honored_ that you think that I would fit the role. I was—I was so flighty and wishy-washy before, and the fact that you still chose to trust me despite that is staggering.” U’Din took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head. “But no matter what I did before that made you think that I can do this, I’m sorry to say that I don’t think I can do that anymore. I’m just—“

“Overwhelmed, I’m sure.” Leliana interjected, folding her arms behind her. “This decision is not official _yet_ , but we do hope that we can make the announcement public once the major repairs are done. That would be a while yet, so it would give you time to get used to the idea.”

“Get used to the idea?” U’Din repeated with a frown. “So you’re saying that I have absolutely _no choice_?”

“U’Din, I know you’ve sacrificed—we’ve _all_ sacrificed. But we’re not done. _You’re_ not done.” Cassandra lectured, crossing her arms over her chest. “If nothing else, Corypheus still wants you dead. He also wants to set the World ablaze—would you _truly_ let that happen? Would you truly let people suffer, just because you _think_ you can’t do it?”

“I _do_ care about the people! But it’s—“ U’Din turned away and looked at his left side, right where an arm used to be. He then looked down on himself—at a weak leg, a weak _body_. “How can I be the Inquisitor when I’m like this? I-I—I can definitely _try_ , but so many people will rely on me. I just... don’t want to fail any of them.”

“You won’t be alone in this, U’Din. I can assure you that we’ll be with you every step of the way.” Cassandra promised him, nodding. “Wherever you go, we will follow. But where you take us, only _you_ can determine.”

That was what U’Din was afraid of. He didn’t _want_ to be responsible for anything, especially if the lives of many were resting on his shoulders. But the thought of them suffering because he didn’t do _anything_ made him more upset than accepting the role itself.

There was a chance that he’d fail, that’s true. But... there was also a chance that he could actually _save_ people, too. He had no idea what the future had in store for him, but thinking about saving others gave U’Din a bit of encouragement.

“...Fine. All right. I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to do a good job, but okay. I’ll do my best.” U’Din eventually accepted, and he reddened a bit when the advisors visibly looked relieved at hearing his statement. He shook his head. “But I have no idea if I’ll be really useful to you! Especially on the battlefield. With only one arm, I can barely use my staff anymore.”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way, as they say.” Leliana interjected again, but with a bit of a cheerful chirp in her voice. She looked at the stump on his left arm. “And there’s _definitely_ a way. Most likely.”

“You know of a way to fix the Herald’s arm problem?” Cullen asked.

“Yes and no. Yes, there _might_ be a way to fix it. And no, because _I_ wouldn’t be able to figure that one out. But _she_ might.”

“She?” U’Din asked, furrowing his brows. “Who’s she?”

“Tell me,” Leliana began, and she gave U’Din a playful smile. “What do you know of an arcanist named _Dagna_?”

 

* * *

 

After the advisors told him of his new appointment, they discussed with U’Din what he was expected to do as the Inquisitor: he now had to be present in _all_ meetings regarding movement; he also had to stick to a strict schedule, meaning whatever needed to be done in one day  _had_ to be done, and; unlike before, he now had a say in major Inquisition matters, including politics. And that meant dealing with the nobility. The thought made him queasy, and Josephine gave him a few books to read about dealing with nobles and royalty and something called _The Game_. U’Din read up on that first, and after a few pages he was surprised that a book on _that_ was even published. How trite!

And now he was in the lower courtyard, watching people be useful while he... just carried a book around. He had offered to help a few servants carry crates a while ago (there was more than _one_ way to move a box, of course), but they just took one look at him and said that _His Worship shouldn’t bother; he should just rest._ That made his mood sour considerably.

If he wanted to be useful, he supposed he could always go visit Harrit in that makeshift smithy in the undercroft. He _did_ receive word that Harrit was working on a special armor just for him, and that he needed U’Din to test the fit. But he doubted he’d be of any use to the blacksmith. And truthfully, watching Harrit craft might just make his mood even worse. Because with just one arm, he probably wouldn’t be able to craft anything anymore.

He scowled at his own uselessness and sat down on one of the rocks, glaring at the ground for being... well, the ground! At least _it_ served a purpose—allowing people to walk and do things. And people trampled on it every day! Even the freaking _earth_ was being more efficient than he was, and it was the _fucking ground_! And _he_ was going to be the Inquisitor? The shems might as well plant that fancy sword on the ground and name Skyhold the Inquisitor instead!

“I don’t think Skyhold can carry a sword.” A soft voice spoke from behind him. “And it _probably_ won’t appreciate being stabbed like that.”

U’Din blinked and turned to see Cole staring down at him from one of the wooden platforms. Shivehn was also on his head, tilting its head at him and hooting. The blond’s eyes widened at seeing them.

“Cole! Shivehn!” U’Din exclaimed, and he watched as Shivehn flew all the way down and perched on his head, and it crooned softly in his ear. The nuzzling made U’Din smile.

“It’s good that you’re okay. I’m happy that you’re okay.” Cole suddenly appeared in front of the blond, making U’Din jump. The spirit looked up at the owl and said, “Shivehn said you’d be okay if I let you deal with it by yourself. It was... hard. To stay away. But I’m glad I did. He really does know you best.”

“Huh?” U’Din tilted his head, looking between the owl and Cole. Since when did the two of them start hanging out? And how did Cole even know what Shivehn’s name was? Did Solas tell him?

“You hurt a lot. You _always_ hurt a lot. After Haven, the hurt magnified twofold at least.” Cole explained quietly, playing with his fingers. “Sometimes you hurt because of the people. Sometimes it’s the arm—or lack of it. Sometimes you wake up to expect to see it there and panic when you don’t. It really hurts to see you like that. I wanted to help, but...”

The spirit looked up at Shivehn, and the owl gave the spirit a sad look. Cole smiled at it and shook his head. “But it’s okay. You’re dealing with it better now. I’ve been helping other people deal with their hurt. So it’s fine.

“Oh, and by the way,” Cole paused. “Sera’s not mad at you. She’s just confused right now. But I think she’s going to start talking to you again today. She’s calmed down enough. Or not.”

“Sera? What do you—“ U’Din cut himself off and blinked when Cole suddenly disappeared. He looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be found. He puffed his cheeks in annoyance. Cole _really_ had to stop doing that.

 _It’s his charm_ , a familiar voice said in his head. It was Big and Noisy. He harrumphed and silently asked where _it_ had been, but he definitely didn’t expect a reply. _I’ve been around. Keeping an eye on things you can’t._

U’Din yelped and fell on his ass. He hissed in pain because _fuck_ , he also had a wound there. Shivehn hovered above him, cooing in his ear, and the blond looked around warily. What—What the fuck was that? Big and Noisy _never_ answered him before! Well, maybe it did, but not so directly! Holy shit, was he _possessed_ —

Shivehn landed on his head and lightly thwacked him with a wing. Its dark eyes glared at him at the same time the voice in his head said, _Stop overreacting. This isn’t the first time I’ve spoken to you._

“Yeah, but it’s the first time that we’re actually _talking_ to each other and—“ U’Din paused. He slowly looked up at the owl glaring at him, and he raised an eyebrow at it in confusion. He blinked. “Wait. Are—Was that _you_?”

The owl rolled its eyes at him. It jumped off his head and landed on the ground, and U’Din sat up to give the owl a considering look. He blinked several times before saying, “Hey, Shivehn. Maybe I’m getting crazy from the restlessness or something, but—was, uh, _that_ you in my head? Are _you_ Big and Noisy?”

The owl gave him a flat look. It shook its head and flapped its wings emphatically, hooting and chirping. U’Din tilted his head to the side in bemusement.

“Huh?”

The owl deflated. It shook its head and flew back on top of U’Din, and the blond took this as a sign to get up. He did it slowly, careful not to strain his bad leg. He dusted himself off and almost fell again when he heard the voice in his head once more.

 _Consider this a victory_ , Big and Noisy said. _The shem’len have seen your worth, and now you have the army you need to stop the blighted villain wrecking havoc across the land._

U’Din snorted and picked up the book on the ground. He dusted it off, too. “I don’t see how becoming Inquisitor is a _victory_. I’m not playing a game or fighting a war. I’m just a Second.”

 _Not just a Second_ , the voice corrected. It went on about him being more than just second to the First—or just a regular Dalish elf in general. It prattled on about him being _destined_ for something, like greatness or something stupid like that. The blond snorted again, wondering what kind of greatness an invalid like him can achieve.

The owl crooned and nuzzled his head around the same time the voice answered that _things happen for a reason_ , and that in time, U’Din will remember everything.

U’Din frowned. Remember what?

“Hey.”

He turned at the call, and he was shocked to see Sera standing by the base of the stairs. He blinked and rubbed them one by one, not believing what he was seeing. When he saw that Sera was _still_ standing near the stairs, he gaped at her openly.

The blond archer rolled her eyes at him. But she quickly sobered as she approached him. “So. Inquisitor, huh? That’s what you are now, right? Inquisitor. Inquisition biggestwig. Not-so-glowy-anymore Inquisition _Inquisitor_.”

U’Din balked, and Shivehn flew off of his head. “H-How— _How did you know about that_? The advisors said that it wasn’t _official_ yet and—“

“The other bigwigs called for a meeting. With inner circle people. Which included me, apparently! How cool is that, huh? I mean—“ She shook her head. “Well, anyway, they called all of us ‘cept you and told us about you being the Inquisitor. So that means you’ll be in charge now.”

The blond blinked at the ground in shock. So many things were happening today; he couldn’t decide which to focus his surprise on! Sera talking to him after _weeks_ of silence had taken him aback already, and now apparently his companions knew about his new appointment and holy shit, were the shems going to announce it sooner than they promised?!

“That stupid look on your face always means _yes_ , so I’m guessing that’s what you mean. Let me cut to the chase, then.” She pulled him out of his thoughts—and by that, he meant _literally_. He yelped when she grabbed his ponytail and pulled him close, and shocked violet met stormy grey. “You remember that war I wanted to stop? Full of baddies I can stick with little arrows so that I can go play again?”

“U-Um,” U’Din stammered. “Y-Yes?”

“Well, good. Because I have one little question for you, _Inquisitor_ ,” She paused to smile sweetly at him, and then yanked on his hair _hard_ and snarling, “THAT’S NOT A FRIGGIN’ _ARCHDEMON_ NOW, IS IT?! WHY IS THERE AN ARCHDEMON FLYING ITS BUTT IN THE SKY? THERE’S NO BLIGHT! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!”

“SERA, _STOP_ IT!” U’Din pushed Sera back, and both of them stumbled backwards. When the blond mage composed himself, he glared at Sera and pointed a finger at her, huffing, “L- _Look_. I—I may have ignored the first time you pulled my hair, but I’m going to make it clear now: the hair. Is. _Sacred_. The next time you pull it, I’m going to shove a rock up your ass and burst it into flames!”

“ _Geez_ , you don’t have to be such a princess about it. But you heard me!” Sera grumbled at him, slightly glaring. “That _thing_ that attacked us at Haven was a _dragon_. Or—Or an archdemon. That’s what everyone’s saying, anyway. You spent time talking with its loopy master Coryphibutt or whatever, so you _must_ know, right? So what is it? Dragon? Archdemon? Or a friggin’ nasty nightmare because that shite can’t be real!”

“That’s very observant of you, Sera. _Yes_ , it was a dragon. But I don’t know if it was a regular dragon _or_ an archdemon.” U’Din explained, frowning at her. “I’m not sure if you remember, but it _did_ take me by surprise as well. I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to make detailed observations, you know.”

“No, stepping in _dog shite_ takes you by surprise. But a magister god monster? That’s—That’s just impossible! And impossible things like that don’t take you by surprise! T-They—“ Sera cut herself off and sighed, rubbing her arm nervously. “Andraste, what the _frig_ did I step in?”

The fear in her voice made the Dalish elf frown, but this time in concern. He approached her and patted her on the shoulder, taking her aback. He gave her a worried look and asked, “Hey. What’s wrong? Is there something bothering you?”

“Friggin’ right something’s bothering me. What happened at Haven, that dragon and that—that _thing_!” Sera exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. She started pacing around him while talking frantically, “Okay, okay, archdemons? Fine, they’re real, I _get it_. But that Coryphy-thing that attacked you was real too, right? And if _he’s_ real, and what he said to you was real too, that means magisters really cracked the Black City! So that means the Black City? Real. Seat of the Maker? Real, too. And a seat needs a butt and if the _butt_ is real, then the thing that _has_ the butt is real-real too and that means the start _and_ end of the world stories are _friggin’_ real—“

“Sera, calm down!” U’Din grabbed Sera by the shoulder and started shaking her. He sighed after she closed her mouth, but the wide-eyed look on her face was still there. “Now, Sera. I’m really not sure what’s going on with you _exactly_ , but I can guess. Are you trying to say that you’re worried about everything being... real?”

“Well, it’s too far, innit?! I just—I just want to plug the skyhole rubbish so I can play again! But how can I _do_ that with a friggin’ dragon flying in the sky?!”

“So what you’re saying is that the possibility of the Maker being real has shocked you so much that you have no idea what to do anymore?” U’Din asked skeptically. “I thought you joined because you wanted to help the _little people_. Where did _that_ go?”

“N-No where! I still—I still want to help them, of course, but—“

“So what’s the issue? If the Maker _is_ real,” Which he doubted, but whatever, “Shouldn’t that be a good thing? For people like you who believe in Andraste, anyway?”

“It can’t be _true_ true! Even fanatics don’t want to be _this_ right, you know!” Sera defended, and then she glared at him, “What would _you_ know, anyway? You believe in those—those elfy gods of yours that have no chance of being real at all! You’re lucky! You don’t _have_ to be afraid of some elfy version of the end of the world!”

“First off, I _don’t_ believe in the Elvhen gods.” U’Din began, ignoring the stunned look on Sera’s face. “And second; I dunno, you’re probably right. Maybe I wouldn’t know. In fact, I really _don’t_ know. But you know what? That’s fine with me. It’s okay not knowing what’s _really_ out there. If it’s the Elvhen gods or the Maker or some sadistic being writing out our lives—I don’t know. But what I _do_ know is that there are very much _real_ things in this world, and that includes people that need our help. That’s what _you_ wanted to do, right? Help?”

“You—You don’t _believe_ in your elfy gods?” Sera asked incredulously. U’Din sighed; trust _her_ to focus on the unnecessary things. “So wait—what _do_ you believe in, then? You can’t believe in Andraste or the Maker, right? So—“

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You don’t _know_ what you believe in?”

“It’s nothing serious, it’s just—it’s more like I don’t know _what_ to believe, really.” U’Din answered. The weight of Sera’s stare made him uncomfortable, so he added, “Anyway, what difference does it make what _I_ believe in? Shouldn’t what I _do_ matter the most?”

“But—How can you not _believe_ in anything?” She sounded so surprised, so _confused_. And maybe even a little afraid. “Y-You have to believe in something, right? I mean—frig, are you saying you believe in _nothing_?”

“I didn’t say _that_. It’s just—“ U’Din paused and sighed. He looked at Sera tiredly and said, “It’s not like I don’t believe in anything. I—I haven’t told this to anyone, not even to my Keeper, but I always felt like... there was a truth out there somewhere. But it’s definitely not in the stories that my clansmen spread, or in the Chant that shems sing. I don’t know what it is or if I’m ever going to find that truth, but... to me it’s okay. Not knowing yet. Or at all, in the end. What _really_ matters is how you live your life—and how you treat others.”

“...Oh.” Sera mumbled, looking rather mystified. She frowned a little and gave U’Din a look. “S-So. You’re saying that you believe that something is out there. But you just... don’t know what it is?”

“Well. _Yeah_.” The blond said with a bit of a shrug. “That’s always how I saw it, anyway.”

“So... there _is_ something out there. Could be the Maker and His butt. Just... something. Right?”

“Right.”

“And Coryphibutt could be lying?”

“It’s possible.”

“Huh.” The blond archer intoned rather blankly. Then she perked up a little and said, “W-Well, _something_ is better than nothing, I guess! And since something isn’t _everything_ , that’s a lot less scary, too. A-And Coryphibutt’s probably just mental. Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know if he really cracked the Black City, but I _do_ know that my arrows exist. I’ll just make him believe in _those_ , too!”

U’Din smiled at the way she tried to cheer herself up, but he couldn’t help but look at her in a different light now. Perhaps Sera was more introspective than he originally thought she was; she just feared what the truth really was, and thus constantly hid behind a facade of “wanting to have fun” and being completely obnoxious.

“Yeah,” He encouraged. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing. Help the little people, and maybe find the truth along the way. Who knows?”

“And stuff Coryphenus with _arrows_ , too! Don’t forget, Droopy!”

U’Din stifled a laugh by covering his mouth with his hand. When Sera glared at him for the apparent insult, he shook his hand in front of him and said, “No, no, I wasn’t making fun of you or anything, it’s just—wow. It’s been a while since I... heard you call me that. I kinda missed it.”

The lighthearted mood Sera just adopted vanished immediately at the reminder, and she turned away to glare at the ground. “L-Look, it’s not... I wasn’t... _mad_ at you or anything, all right? I just. Well—“

“It’s okay, Sera. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” U’Din reassured her. When she turned to look at him, he smiled at her kindly. “I get that you needed space. What happened at Haven affected everybody in a horrible way. Even I have a hard time believing it actually happened sometimes. It’s normal to feel scared.”

“Y-Yeah. I know, right? Magister god thingies _what_!” Sera exclaimed and laughed. The blond archer quickly sobered after a few seconds, and she smiled a bit at U’Din. “But, you know, thanks. For... listening. And being, well, you. All nice and shite. You’re all right, Droopy. Didn’t expect to like a crybaby elfy-elf like you as much as I do now. Still can’t believe it, really.”

U’Din rolled his eyes, but he didn’t take offense from the slight insult. “Yeah, whatever. You’re not pretty bad yourself. And as for me being nice... well, that’s what friends do for each other, right?”

Sera blinked at him. “Friend? You think I’m your... friend?”

“Well, yeah.” He said. Then he frowned uncertainly at her. “Why? Do you... hate it?”

“O-Of course not! Don’t go blinking those big eyes at me like that! That’s not what I meant! It’s just—“ She turned away and rubbed her arm. “I’ve... never _really_ had a friend before. Which is weird because. Friends of Red Jenny, yeah? But we’re not really _friends_. Don’t even get to see them a lot, anyways.”

“Oh.” U’Din replied, stunned.

“Yeah. But don’t go feeling sorry for me or anything or I’ll kick your arse.” She warned him. The threatening aura quickly dissipated, and she went back to looking sad again. “Didn’t really had time to make friends. Didn’t think I needed them either. But... I guess it’s a good thing if it’s you. Being my first friend, I mean. You saved my life, so you’re good in my book!”

U’Din cried out in surprise when she swung her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. She grinned goofily at him. “This is good, yeah? We can do _lots_ of things friends do! Like—Like games! Obstacle courses! And ooh, _pranks_!”

“Obstacle courses? _Pranks_?” U’Din eyed her skeptically—and maybe a little fearfully, since she had that mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Yeah! It’ll be fun, I promise! And no one’s going to get mad at you because hello, _Inquisitor_? And it’ll be grand because they’ll see you as one of them and not some snooty bigwig!”

“Are you mad, Sera? I can’t just pull pranks on people! What, do you expect me to suddenly throw _pies_ at everybody like—“

“OH PIES IS _SO_ GOOD! You’re brilliant, Droopy!” She turned around, and she ended up pulling U’Din along with her, making the blond mage cry out. She pointed up at the bailey above them and said, “Quick, let’s go to the pub and start planning! I have a few ideas in mind, but let’s try your pie idea first! We’re going to make it rain. Pies, that is! Hahahaha!”

“Sera, I don’t— _gahh_ , be careful, I can’t walk that fast up the stairs! HEY!”

 

* * *

 

 _Tarasyl’an Telas_ —his old stronghold. Or where it used to stand, anyway.

Solas touched the walls in the atrium and closed his eyes, feeling the old magic reverberating deep within the structure. The Veil was very old here, and it surprised Solas very little; _this_ was where he created it. Where he attempted to free the slaves from their oppressors. And where he failed.

He sighed miserably, recalling the events that led him to make that decision. Arlathan had become darkened with hate and betrayal, its air rank with the blood of hundreds, _thousands_ of oppressed slaves and innocent soldiers. And all because of greed, vanity, _revenge_. His young and hot-blooded self had done his best to help the people, but when his dear friend was murdered, he—

He sighed again, shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental. He had a plan to make, agents to inform—and an arm to study.

The arm in question was silently sitting on his desk; a husk of what used to be a functioning tool to seal rifts, to summon spirit swords that were _white_. He frowned at the thought and sat at his desk, jotting down notes on papers. He wrote quite a bit, but a few lines stood out that held his interest:

White spirit sword. Strange sickness. Skilled in battle. _U’Din_.

He placed the quill down and went through his notes—all centered on the mysterious blond who was named Herald, and soon to be officially named Inquisitor. Solas had been surprised when the advisors announced to the inner circle that they wanted U’Din to be the Inquisitor, but not because he was unworthy or lacked the skill. If he had to be honest, U’Din was probably the only one worthy of the role. It was just... too good to be true.

With U’Din as Inquisitor, it would make things incredibly easy for Solas. As Inquisitor, U’Din would have access to power—he would be able to command the Inquisition forces, determine its direction and purpose. The Dalish elf was skilled and intuitive, true—but he had no confidence in himself. No self-esteem. That would mean that, despite his access to power, he would defer a lot to others in making decisions. And who, out of _all_ the members of his inner circle, would U’Din be most likely to choose?

It would be _him_. And that would make things very, _very_ easy for Solas. He shouldn’t be so smug, he knew, but... he couldn’t help it. If his plan was brought to fruition, that would mean he would be able to redeem himself! He’d be able to save the modern elves, bring them back the immortality they had lost because of Solas’ past actions. The empire would be restored, and Thedas would belong to the elves again!

Of course, he’d be much more thrilled about that than he was now, but in order to achieve his goals, Solas realized that he would have to do a bit of... _manipulating_ to get there. He looked at his hand and recalled the soft texture of blond strands and sighed—and all feelings of smugness left, only to be replaced by guilt and shame.

It wasn’t right. U’Din was a genuinely kind person, yet here Solas was, planning to use the blond’s trust in him to get what he wanted. And also... he noticed that U’Din was becoming enamored with him. Or at least found Solas attractive—he said so himself, didn’t he? If Solas could get U’Din on his side, it would make things a _lot_ easier for the ancient elf to set his plan into motion. It also helped that the attraction was mutual—so why not use it to his advantage? But the part of him that genuinely liked U’Din still considered the plan to be atrocious— _disgusting_. And it was. It _really_ was.

But he had no choice. For the people, the empire—he was willing to do anything; including seducing U’Din to his side. And if he failed, and U’Din rejected his plan—Solas didn’t even want to consider what he’d have to do. So that meant getting to know U’Din as much as he could so that the possibility of failure would diminish. And getting to know U’Din, solving the mysteries surrounding the blond—those were his top goals for now.

But that would have to wait. For now, he had to personally report to the advisors on the status of his “research” on U’Din’s arm. Solas wrote one last line on his personal notes on U’Din before standing up. He took a few papers with him—the ones that he purposely wrote for the advisors—and left the atrium, leaving the rest of his notes and the arm on the cluttered desk.

After he left, a flutter of wings resounded in the atrium. Shivehn glided down to the rotunda and landed on the desk, eyeing the notes on the desk with a curious tilt of the head. The notes were written in ancient elvhen, and normally a bird wouldn’t be able to read it—or any other writing, for that matter. But the owl quickly shifted the papers, staring intently at the symbols with its large, dark eyes. Its feet tapped on a set of symbols that appeared constantly on the notes, and when it reached the most recent entry, it narrowed its eyes in rage.

Shivehn raised its talons and started to shred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH. I DON'T LIKE THIS CHAPTER. Mainly because I think it's a filler. Or something. Huhu. :(( And sorry if it seemed like I breezed through the journey to Skyhold. I didn't want to waste time narrating that scene because I'm pretty sure all of you know how that scene went. I had nothing to add to that part aside from that cute scene with U'Din and Solas (lol I can't believe I included that really), so... use your imaginations? Hahaha.
> 
> And Sera. I actually find Sera's reasons for being Andrastian intriguing. Now, this is all just speculation on my part so you don't have to take me seriously or anything, but I _do_ think that the only reason why she's Andrastian is because believing in _elven_ gods would be an elfy thing to do, and we all know that she resents the idea of being an elf. It's actually really sad that Sera suffers from internal racism, and it makes one wonder how that actually came about. Her past is still a mystery. What are your thoughts on this, guys? 
> 
> As for Solas' intentions... okay, I can imagine a few people side-eyeing me for this, but I wanted to try this twist: what if Solas wanted to actively pursue you to get what he wants? He's already attracted to you, so there was no problem with him trying to seduce you--plus he can get the leverage he needs. That's pretty cruel, yes, but Solas has proven that he is an "end justify the means" kinda guy. That's how I interpret his character, anyway. Also, the reason why I wanted to reveal that early on is... well, how funny would it be to see Solas trying to seduce U'Din to his side but failing since U'Din has such low self-esteem that he basically overlooks any attempts of wooing? Idk. I find it funny because Solas is an ass and he deserves to suffer bwahahaha
> 
> So that's it for this chapter! Thanks so much for taking the time to read, even though this fic is probably starting to become droll lol. I do appreciate the feedback and kudos you give me, and it really does make my day to read what you guys think! <3 I hope this chapter was enjoyable, and I'll see you next update! :D


	22. New Title, Same Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER SORRY FOR THE DELAY. Life got a little insane, and school's being a butt. Also, my DAI saves here on my local drive got corrupted, and since my third-world Internet prevents me from benefiting from the cloud storage drive--well. Let's just say I'm a very, very pissed gamer right now. All my recent DAI saves were lost. _U'DIN_ GOT LOST. I WAS SO ANGRY I RAGEQUIT ON THE FANDOM HAHAHAHAHA
> 
> But I'm back now. So. I hope you all aren't too mad at me ;____; I made this chapter extra nice for all of you, so I hope this makes up for my absence!
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd.

The next few days at Skyhold went by quickly—that is, for everyone except for U’Din. The repairs were starting to show results, and the stronghold was looking much less worn out than it had been when they first arrived. Everyone was kept busy with their assigned tasks like lifting, moving, and speaking with contractors and noble dignitaries alike.

As for U’Din, well. He had read twenty books on various subjects already; not that that was worth anything, really. The blond felt horrible for not being able to do much, but he had already been scolded once for using his magic to help lift things around. He didn’t like being so idle, but what choice did he have? There was also the issue regarding his wounds; without the Keeper's salve, it was getting harder for U'Din to keep his wounds from becoming irritated. Changing bandages wasn’t enough anymore, and pretty soon he <i>would</i> need to find a way to replicate his Keeper’s salve. Not tending to them as soon as possible would lead to detrimental effects.

Thinking of his Keeper made him think of the clan, and he became even <i>more</i> depressed and anxious. Had they heard about what happened at Haven? He had no idea how to contact them now. He was too afraid. Too ashamed.

Despite his restlessness and worries, he had, fortunately, not been alone. He had spent time with some of his companions after Lady Cassandra told him to _not_ do anything. Blackwall and Vivienne had been especially nice to him—the former kept him company a lot and told him stories, and he even gave U’Din a few exercises that helped make walking and running much more bearable. He often thanked Blackwall and told him how much of a good man he was for spending time with him, and the Grey Warden would get this strange look on his face and tell him that “it was the least he could do.”

On the other hand, the First Enchanter often invited him to chat with her, and they bonded over the most surprising thing to the blond: fashion. U’Din was embarrassed to admit it, but ever since he read up on Orlesian clothing, he had been intrigued by the ostentatious designs. They spoke to him somehow, and he enthusiastically absorbed all of Vivienne’s input on the subject. He may or may not have gotten excited when she offered to introduce him to her seamstress someday.  

But a week of idleness passed, and now the day he was dreading had arrived: U’Din was going to be named Inquisitor. Officially. In front of a lot of people.

Fucking _shit_.

U’Din looked at his face in the mirror and frowned. He pulled his hair up in different angles, but he didn’t like the way it looked so he let it fall back down. His hair had grown past his shoulders already (not counting the persistent part that grew twice as fast), and he realized that it was getting harder to see without needing to tuck his bangs behind his ear. Maybe he really _did_ need to have it cut. It was disappointing, but what could he do? He decided to braid it to the side for now, but as he tied his hair in a loose pony, a memory of a young girl tying his hair the same way flashed in his mind.

He shook his head and sighed.

Next, he eyed the ceremonial outfit he was wearing with slight disdain and wondered if he could have it switched for something... well, _less_ ugly? Or tight? He supposed he had no right to be picky with whatever he was given, but—the color was so _horrible_. Did they really want him to wear _this_ at Skyhold from now on?

He looked at his behind and blushed, stretching out the fabric covering his rear and thighs. Seriously, why would they make him wear something as tight as this?! Around so many people? And while he was being named Inquisitor, too! U’Din groaned; he was starting to believe that the advisors were out to embarrass him or something.

A series of hoots came from outside the washroom, drawing his attention. He went out to his room and smiled briefly at the owl perched on its own personal stand before taking a moment to look around his new bedroom. The motif of his room was warm, red tones, with a hearth beside one of the balconies. There were bookcases filled with things for him to read up on, a desk, and just to his right was the bed. Which was laden with _tons_ of gold. Eck.

Shivehn seemed to hate it as much as he did because it flew towards the bed just to glare up at the golden lions. U’Din laughed at the owl’s behavior and went up to it, stroking its smooth chest with his hand.

“I know it doesn’t really look that nice, but we can’t really have it replaced, Shivehn. Lady Vivienne gave it to us as a present; it would be rude to just throw it away, don’t you think?”

Shivehn turned its head and gave him a flat look. It poked at the gold with its beak, and something along the lines of _can we just replace the gold_ echoed in the blond’s head. U’Din smiled and shook his head in amusement.

The two of them turned when they heard a knock on the door, and Shivehn flew up to his head after he allowed the person to come in. He walked towards the stairs and saw Cassandra and Leliana climbing up.

“Good morning, _Inquisitor_.” Leliana greeted him sweetly, _teasingly_. She laughed at seeing the frown on his face. “What’s wrong? That’s your new title, isn’t it? Oh—hello, pretty owl!”

Shivehn hooted happily at the compliment, and U’Din rolled his eyes at it. What a vain bird. “Nothing’s wrong, Lady Leliana. It’s just... ugh, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“It’s been a week since we first informed you of your new appointment. Surely you have already gotten used to the idea?” Cassandra asked with a hint of a smile on her face.

“It’s been almost five months since I became the Herald of Andraste, and I’m _still_ not used to that. I don’t think I ever will.” U’Din admitted. He looked down at his clothes and said, “And I don’t see why I have to wear _this_. Can’t I get something... less tight? This outfit is making me _very_ uncomfortable.”

“What are you talking about? I think it suits you!” Leliana told him. “I believe it brings out your best features. You have a very nice build, Lord U’Din, though it may not be a bad idea to gain a bit more weight, hm?”

U’Din blushed and shielded himself from the redhead’s leer. The feeble attempt made the Spymaster giggle, and the Seeker rolled her eyes at the exchange.

“Please excuse Leliana, my lord. She’s quite cheerful in the morning.” Cassandra said on Leliana’s behalf. Then she gestured towards the stairs. “But we mustn’t dally. We have a ceremony to attend. _Your_ ceremony.”

U’Din sighed at the thought, but he nodded in acceptance. “All right. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

U’Din reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs and stared down at the large crowd that had gathered on the lower courtyard. He gulped and took a step back, greatly intimidated by the large number of people. Was it him or did the Inquisition grow in size? And there seemed to be a lot of non-combatant people down there, too—

“Pilgrims and volunteers have arrived daily from every settlement in the region ever since we spread word of our rebuilding.” Cassandra said as she stood next to him, also looking down at the crowd. “We couldn’t allow everyone to stay, so what you’re seeing now are recruit hopefuls, along with our own soldiers and scouts. They’ve gathered to watch you officially become the Inquisitor.”

He swallowed and said, “T-That’s a lot of people, though. You didn’t say there’d be this many of them.”

Cassandra chuckled. “What did you expect? Just an intimate gathering of close friends? These people have come to serve the Inquisition—have come to serve _you_. They would want to see you at least once, and this is their chance.”

“They’re not going to serve me.” U’Din denied quietly, uncomfortable at the thought.

“Not like a monarch, perhaps, but as a figure they look up to. You have become an icon, U’Din—a symbol of hope.” She answered. “You have become their savior, and in turn they have become your soldiers—your people. I told you before that wherever you lead us, we will follow. The same now goes for them.”

The Dalish elf considered her words quietly. He looked down at the group of people staring up at him, and in their eyes he saw... awe? Wonder? The blond didn’t know what to make of their expressions. They probably thought he looked weird in his new clothes. He certainly thought so. But the sight of them gathered below evoked something inside U’Din that made him feel like he’d done this before. Like... a long time ago.

Shivehn cried out and flew over his head, gliding down to sweep over the crowd before flying up again. U’Din had followed it with his gaze, and his eyes found Cullen, Josephine and his companions standing by the stairs on the lower courtyard. They were all smiling up at him, and Sera was waving at him excitedly from where she was. U’Din waved back, but much less enthusiastically.

And then there was Solas, standing beside a beaming Cole. He was also smiling, but there was a twinkle of pride in his eyes. When his gaze met U’Din’s, he nodded, as if silently congratulating him on his new appointment. U’Din smiled shyly and scratched his cheek.

Then, much to U’Din’s horror, Cassandra started to address the crowd.

“Friends! Tragedy has struck us time and time again, but hope has never left us.” She said. “Before, we have gathered to heal the sky, to right the wrongs that were left in the Breach’s wake. But now we have a new purpose: to conquer an enemy—a _powerful_ one who seeks to lord over this world and plunge us into chaos!

“But fear not, brothers and sisters, for we have the one who will triumph over this creature, this _monster,_ and he has been saving us from the very beginning! And he is standing right _here_.”

Cassandra turned around to face him, and U’Din blinked back at her awkwardly. He then noticed a few soldiers climbing up the stairs, and one of them was carrying the fancy sword the advisors showed him before. Leliana approached the soldiers and took it fom them.

Leliana walked towards U’Din next, and she offered the sword to him. Hesitantly at first, the blond reached out to hold the sword. He got really embarrassed when the crowd started applauding and cheering for him. Geez, why were they doing that? He just took the damn thing.

Cassandra smiled and nodded at the cheering, and she turned to the blond elf. “Would you like to say a few words? Lord Inquisitor?”

The blond balked. _What_?! A few words? Did she mean... a _speech_?! They never said anything about giving speeches! Was the crowd even—oh no, they were looking up at him expectantly. He was tempted to flee, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with his bad leg. Plus, that would _probably_ be a little degrading. Oh, what to do, _what to do_ —

“ _Relax_ ,” He heard Leliana whisper from behind him, and when she gently held onto his arm he realized he had been shaking. “Just give them a few words of encouragement. Maybe mention whatever uplifting message you want to deliver?”

“But what if I don’t _have_ a message?”

Leliana giggled. “Surely you have _something_ to say?”

“I could have but you didn’t exactly give me time to—“

U’Din turned when he heard Shivehn cry out nearby. The owl had perched on one of the branches of a nearby tree, and the two of them shared a look. Shivehn closed its eyes and nodded, and whispers among whispers echoed in U’Din’s mind. The blond listened to them, and he let out a deep, calm breath.

That’s—that’s right. He didn’t _need_ a message. Maybe.

He sighed and took a few steps forward so that the crowd could see him better—and he took a visible gulp as he surveyed the huge mass of people. Fear threatened to take over, but he steeled himself—he took a deep breath and started to speak.

“Well, this... is certainly a nice view.” He began out of nervousness, and he felt slightly encouraged by the chuckles. And by Sera’s inappropriate whooping. He cleared his throat. “Never would I have thought that I’d be standing here, giving speeches and looking over you all. In fact, I never thought that I’d be standing at all.

“What happened at Haven shook all of us at the core, momentarily crippling us and taking away our hope. We saw the monster responsible for the Breach—a madman who seeks to conquer this world. Or destroy it. One would think that encountering such a wicked creature should instill fear in us; teach us that fighting against such a thing would be pointless. But it is because we encountered Corypheus that we _should_ stop him at all costs—not for power, glory, or even vengeance, but because _we_ live here, and we’re not going to let a man drunk from hubris take our freedom, our _home_ away from us!

“I won’t pretend to be immortal—or all-knowing, or even divine.” He paused to gauge the people’s reactions upon saying that, but when he didn’t detect anything negative he continued, “But I, like you, have a home in this World, and I will do my very best to protect everyone and everything. And as long as we stand together—human, elf, dwarf and qunari—we can, no, _will_ defeat this monster! That I swear on my name: U’Din Lavellan. Your _Inquisitor_.”

Cassandra and Leliana gaped at U’Din’s back as the crowd cheered, pumping their fists in the air. The inner circle’s reactions varied from shocked to impressed, and Cullen and Josephine had to accidentally bump each other to snap out of astonishment. The Commander shook his head and quickly composed himself; turning to the crowd and brandishing his sword to point up at U’Din.

“Inquisition! Inquisitor U’Din!”

The blond blushed to the tips of his ears as he stepped back a few, overwhelmed by the crowd’s reception. He—He didn’t say anything special at all; just what he thought and tried to string together on the spot. He just followed what he felt from within, and—

“Psst, Lord Inquisitor.” Leliana whispered from the side after she stopped gaping at him. He turned to see her smiling—a twinkle of pride in her eyes. “Raise the sword. They’ll love that.”

“Huh? Oh. O-Okay, then.” The blond nodded and raised the sword high in the air. Embarrassingly enough, the crowd started to cheer louder and—wait, were they cheering his name? Goodness, he didn’t know how to feel about that!

 _‘So embarrassing.’_ He said, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. But he supposed it was a good feeling. Accepting the role and making a speech seemed to have helped raise morale, and that was always a good thing. Raising the sword could have been a visual representation of that, too.

But speaking of the sword—

“L-Lady Cassandra? Lady Leliana?”

“Yes?” Cassandra answered, and he was taken aback by the huge smile on her face. “What is it, my Lord Inquisitor?”

“Can I—Can I stop holding the sword up now? It’s—It’s kinda heavy and—oh _shit_ —”

 

* * *

 

“That speech was most impressive, U’Din. I’m very proud of you; well done.”

“Yeah, nice speech, Droopy! Too bad it was really embarrassing and shite. I would have felt sorry for you if I wasn’t so busy laughing when you almost dropped that sword, hahahaha!”

“Ahh, so you southerners _also_ casually and blatantly throw insults at authority figures’ faces. I thought it was just us back at my homeland. It’s reassuring to know that we’re not the only crazy people in the World, at least.”

“...What the frig did he mean by that? Did he make fun of me just now?”

“You know, Buttercup, Sparkler has a point. But honestly, I’m more surprised about the _Seeker’s_ speech. How many times did you rehearse that, if I may so boldly ask?”

“Watch it, _Varric_. I know where you keep _Bianca_.”

“Yeesh. Couldn’t take a joke.”

“Speaking of jokes, _I’m_ more surprised that Sera over here didn’t pull any pranks. The crowd was distracted enough by boss’s speech; she could have pulled _anything_.”

“...Piss. _Piss_ , Bull’s right! That was a wasted opportunity! Hey, advisor people! When’s Droopy going to speak in front of a lot of people again?”

“Ngh. Not anytime soon, I hope.”

“Aww, come on, Droopy! We’ve yet to try your idea! _Pies_ , remember? Oh, oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud—“

“Pies, pies, the sky _raining_ pies. Skyhold will be covered in cranberry, blueberry, apple—wait, now it’s _exploding pies_ , crusty splatter everywhere—“

“Shut up, Creepy! You’re giving away my ideas!”

The advisors sighed and looked at each other forlornly. Why had they thought it would be a good idea to include _Sera_ in the inner circle? As a matter of fact, why did they even bother inviting them all for this meeting? All they really needed was the Inquisitor, but now that _everyone_ was here, the War Room was filled with useless and trite banter. It was maddening.

But everyone had to be here. For U’Din.

U’Din watched the exchange between Sera and Cole with mild amusement. He grinned a bit, but a brief look at the advisors made him drop the wide smile. He looked back at the spirit and the elven archer and, after quick consideration, cleared his throat for the commotion to stop.

“I, um—“ He stammered when everyone’s gazes fell on him. “We, uh, probably have to keep quiet now. The advisors are going to start the meeting.”

“ _Thank_ you, Inquisitor.” Josephine said gratefully, making U’Din nod back shyly. She turned her attention to the others in the room and added, “As the Inquisitor mentioned, we have gathered you all for this meeting. Ideally, all of us should be present during these times to give our own input and suggestions on the Inquisition’s next steps.”

“Don’t really see why we _all_ have to be here.” Sera harrumphed, resting her elbows on the table. She cradled her chin in her hands and added, “I mean, this is bigwig stuff, yeah? I still think you lot and Droopy can handle this by yourselves.”

“Sera, we talked about this. Remember? When we all gathered you to inform you of U’Din becoming Inquisitor?” Cassandra gave Sera a look which didn’t go unnoticed by U’Din. He wondered what that was all about.

The archer snorted and scratched the inside of her ear. “Yeah, I remember. I still think it’s stupid shite. I don’t see why we have to be here to make Droopy feel— _oof!_ ”

“Whoops. Sorry, Sera.” Iron Bull apologized and stepped back, sounding too innocent to really mean it. He was also grinning slightly.

“I’ll get you for that one, you overgrown... pissbag!”

“What’s going on?” U’Din asked, giving everyone a skeptical look. He narrowed his eyes when most of them avoided his gaze. “What was Sera trying to say? You’re all here to make me feel what?”

“Nothing, Inquisitor. You don’t have to worry about that.” Leliana replied, smiling.

U’Din frowned. “But—“

“Now, if we could get back to the topic at hand?” She asked. Everyone except U’Din nodded, and the Spymaster gave the Inquisitor a look.

The blond sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine. What do we need to talk about?”

“Why we have to be here when we could be out there? And _ha_!” Sera jumped away from the Iron Bull and gave him a triumphant look. “Nice try, Bull! But I was one step ahead of ya!”

Varric sighed. “Buttercup, he wasn’t going to _do_ anything.”

Sera shook her fist at him. “ _Lies_!”

“I guess we have to explain it again to make it clear.” Leliana sighed, shaking her head. She cleared her throat and explained, “You’ve all played important parts for the Inquisition. Many of you helped the Inquisition by providing several advantages, information, resources—thank you for suggesting the use of the Grey Warden treaties by the way, ser Blackwall. They proved most helpful.”

“No problem. Anything to help.” The bearded warrior said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey! What about my bees? They helped lots!” Sera cried out in dismay, and then she sent a glare towards Droopy. “Though Droopy never wanted any of them made anymore.”

U’Din shook his head at her. “I didn’t want another _bee plague_ to happen, Sera. You’re not getting any bees until you prove that you can handle them responsibly.”

“So basically boss means _never_ _ever_.”

“Wait, _bee plague_? Was that the time she threw one of those jars somewhere in Haven for _practice_?” Varric asked, scratching his chin in thought. “Because I seem to recall that incident _very_ well. Mostly because I was stung by one of those shitty things.”

“Be glad you weren’t at the area where she actually _threw_ it.” Solas retorted with a slightly bitter edge to his voice. He shifted his eyes to glare at Sera when she guffawed.

“Oh, oh, that was _brilliant_! Baldy running around trying to swat  bees with his staff! And he couldn’t even use his freaky magic because they’re so small and—HAHAHAHA!”

Solas scathingly muttered something Elvhen under his breath, to which Sera intelligently responded with a _“ppbbbbbbbttt!”_ Nobody understood what the hedge mage said—except for U’Din, who was looking at his two friends in shock and disapproval.

“Shove a beehive— _Solas!_ How could you say such a thing?! And Sera, that’s rude, apologize right now—“

“ _Ahem_.” Cassandra cleared her throat. “May we _please_ focus? We have better things to discuss than _bees_.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Vivienne added with an unimpressed frown.

U’Din smiled sheepishly and scratched his cheek. “Sorry, Lady Cassandra. Sorry, Lady Vivienne.”

The enchanter’s look softened. “My dear, you don’t have to apologize; it’s not _your_ fault. Even you can’t control the actions of the unruly and uncivilized, after all.”

“Piss off, Vivi!”

“Right. Let’s focus now, shall we?” Leliana said, though she was smirking a bit. Perhaps she enjoyed the brief banter a little too much. “In any case, you’ve all contributed greatly to the Inquisition, and you’ve all helped the Herald personally on his tasks. Since you are the Inquisition’s most trusted members—yes, even _you_ Sera—it was decided that you’ll all also be present during some of these meetings. Unless we want to speak to the Inquisitor privately, of course.”

“Which will likely happen more often than not.” Josephine added with a quick tap of her quill. “Still, like I said earlier, there will be times when input from you all will be needed, especially when we’re deliberating our next move. And now would be one of those times.”

Cullen nodded when Josephine inclined her head towards him. That was his cue to speak. “You’ve all been briefed about this _Corypheus_. He’s a madman—an alleged ancient magister who wants to—what was it? _Champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world_?”

“Nice of you to add the _alleged_ there.” Dorian quipped, though U’Din wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“And you’re really not going to let that go, are you?” Leliana shook her head, smiling a bit.

“You have to admit, it sounds mad.” Cullen retorted with a slight smirk. Then, he cleared his throat and continued, “In any case, we’ve yet to encounter him again since. But with our growing numbers and developing fortifications, we can definitely put up a fight here.”

“However, that doesn’t mean we should just sit idly and wait for him to attack us.” Leliana added seriously. “We have to prepare ourselves in the meantime—garner more influence, acquire more agents. We also have to address Corypheus’ plot to assassinate Empress Celene, and an event like that could plunge the entire world into chaos.”

“Which is the perfect time for this Corypheus to invade and conquer everything, I bet. Demon army and all.”

U’Din furrowed his brows and nodded, remembering how they uncovered the plot in Therinfal. “You think it’s going to happen soon?”

The advisors exchanged glances and nodded at him, looking somber. “Unfortunately, Your Worship, yes. At the Empress’ upcoming ball, in fact.”

The blond sighed. Of _course_ it would happen during some party where everyone’s guard would be mostly down. He nodded and asked them to give him details about this party—he had a terrible feeling that he was going to attend, despite his reluctance to mingle with snooty, possibly _racist_ shems.

His lack of vocal protests didn’t go unnoticed, and everyone was either smiling or exchanging knowing glances because of it.

They talked about the Empress’ party and how important it was for the Inquisition to attend—with Sera and Cassandra making side comments about the _pretentiousness_ of it all, though Sera used much more colorful terms to describe it. Vivienne offered to help procure invitations, or at least schmooze the right people to get them. Iron Bull also offered his help in the form of the Ben-Hassrath, reminding U’Din for the first time in a while that the qunari was a spy. Then Varric mentioned that he was going to send letters to a friend to help with Corypheus, and U’Din wondered why half the room became quiet at that. The dwarf was _also_ trying to avoid the suspicious gaze of a certain Seeker.

When the discussion resumed, the blond mage realized that he had yet to contribute anything. But before he could even try to open his mouth, he found out that he had absolutely nothing to offer—information or material. The thought of not being able to help upset him, and he wondered if he should even be here.

He felt Cole appear behind him, and he blinked when the pale spirit smiled at him encouragingly. He heard the spirit’s soothing voice in his head, saying _it’s okay’s_ and _you can contribute some other way’s_. The encouragement helped him shake the self-doubt away, and he reminded himself that he promised, in front of _hundreds_ , that he would do his best as the Inquisitor. The urge to just hide under a blanket (or in a _tree_ ) was strong, but U’Din knew he didn’t have the luxury to revert back to his old self.

His optimistic thoughts made Cole beam, but the wide smile soon fell. Before Cole broke away, U’Din heard him whispering _‘I wish I could help you more.’_ The blond blinked at a now frowning Cole, wondering if he had offended the spirit somehow.

U’Din had been so distracted that he didn’t realize that the topic had changed, and he was taken aback when Leliana addressed him, “So, Inquisitor, while we wait for any leads, you’ll be heading out to the Fallow Mire with Dorian, Sera and Blackwall on the morrow. A group of Avvar has captured some of our soldiers and demanded to meet with you if we want them back. There’s no telling what they’re planning, so it would be best to prepare for anything.”

“I suggest bringing lots of Antivan Fire. And a plethora of fire spells.” Dorian added and turned to him, smiling in that cheeky, smug way of his that U’Din had yet to get used to. “Or just a quick way to cut off heads, really. Doesn’t matter, as long as you kill the barbarians.”

“Ooh, what about explosions?! And _fire arrows_!”

“We’ll find the missing soldiers. Those Avvar and undead bastards won’t know what’s coming to them!”

The blond blinked slowly. Did Blackwall just say... _undead_?

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Willow!”

U’Din turned to see Varric walking up to him. He smiled down at the dwarf and said, “Hello, Mr. Varric. Did you need me for anything?”

“No worries, Willow. Just wanted to talk before you head off to the mire. And maybe tell you to use boots you don’t _really_ wanna use anymore. I recommend those ugly ones that noble woman gave you. Leather and silk, _really_.”

The reminder of the mire made him wince, but for an entirely different reason. He laughed uneasily and asked, “Is the place really _that_ bad?”

“’Course it is. Sticky, humid, and just... awful. And don’t think I didn’t see you freezing when Hero mentioned that there would be undead.” Varric said jokingly, but then became a bit more serious when U’Din shuddered. “You gonna be all right?”

“Y-Yeah. I think. I’m not looking forward to it but,” He paused, rubbing his left bicep nervously. “I have to help look for the missing soldiers. I’m _not_ going to fail like I did in the Storm Coast. I’ll never forgive myself if they die like that.”

“Willow, that wasn’t your fault, you know.” The dwarf began consolingly.

U’Din smiled mirthlessly and shook his head. “No, it really was. I should have acted more urgently, and if it wasn’t for my pathetic attitude, I’d—“ He sighed and rubbed at his stump of an arm. “I just want to save them this time. And who knows what could be happening to them right now?”

Varric smiled up at him and said, “You’re a good guy, Willow. Have I ever told you that?”

U’Din scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m just doing what I think is right, Mr. Varric. It’s not a very hard thing to do.”

“Like I told you before, not many people think like that. Much less people who would actually _act_ on that.” The dwarf reached out to pat his bandaged stump of an arm in what appeared to be approval. “You’re gonna be fine out there, Willow. Just sorry that I won’t be there to help you out. Not that I want to get all muddy and sticky, mind you.”

The blond shook his head. “It’s all right, Mr. Varric. You said you had to... write letters, was it? And Warden Blackwall will be with me. So will Sera, and maybe Cole since I can never convince him to stay.”

“You forgot Sparkler. He’s an expert on the undead, so he’s coming too, right?”

U’Din made a face but nodded. “Y-Yeah. Lord Dorian. Expert on the undead. _Right._ ”

Varric raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong between you and Sparkler, Willow?”

“It’s not that, it’s—“ Willow looked around briefly before sighing. “I don’t have anything against him. He’s a talented mage, and he’s funny, but—his kind of magic isn’t something I really... agree with.”

It took the rogue a few moments to realize what the elf meant. He hummed as he scratched his chin, looking like he was thinking. “Well, if you don’t want Sparkler to come along, you can always ask Chuckles.”

U’Din smiled at the thought of Solas, but he shook his head in reply. “Solas said the advisors had given him a lot to research, so he couldn’t go even if he wanted to.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. You and Chuckles have been getting pretty close recently.” Varric said with a teasing edge to his statement, making U’Din blush. He grinned up at the blond and added, “I’m sure you can send him letters. Though I’d write in code, if I were you. Especially if you two were to talk about stuff like _that_.”

U’Din coughed and looked away. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Solas and I are good friends, so of course we’re close. And what do you mean? What would we talk about?”

“Oh, Willow. You’re absolutely precious, you know that?” Varric laughed heartily and gave him a friendly slap to the back. He ignored U’Din’s half-hearted glare as he walked away with a wave of a hand. “Anyways, I have letters to write. And you have stuff to prepare. And Chuckles to say goodbye to.”

The blond rolled his eyes at the last line and followed the dwarf out the hall. But Varric had a point; he probably needed to bring a few extra things with him. Extra tonics? He’d have to ask Sera about that.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn’t notice Varric smiling at him as he passed the dwarf by.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at the region of the Fallow Mire the next day, U’Din realized that Varric had been right: the place was _horrible_. Sticky, humid, _wet_ —it was nothing like U’Din was used to at all! But he supposed that didn’t mean much, considering he was usually not allowed outside his clan’s camp.

Something squished under his boot, and he deliberated whether to inspect or be lost in blissful ignorance. A brief glance down made him choose the latter.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to meet up with Scout Harding. U’Din was glad that she was able to survive Haven, but he wondered how long she’d been in the bog. She then explained that she, along with scouts and soldiers, had been ordered to scout the area after there had been sighting of undead.

“But while I was scouting the eastern part of the region, our main camp was ambushed by a group of Avvar. They captured the soldiers left behind and held them hostage.” She said, guilt and regret coating her words.

U’Din frowned sympathetically. “Were they—“

“Not that we know of, Your Worship. They claim that they’ll only let them go if you meet with their leader, ser.”

“What’s Avvar doing in this shitty place, anyway?” Sera half-asked, half-complained as she placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t they mountain people, or somethin’?”

“That’s... kind of the thing.” The dwarven scout began, looking up at the Inquisitor uneasily. “You see, their leader, he... he wants to fight you for them.”

“ _Me_?” U’Din pointed at himself and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I know he wants to see me but— _fight_ me? As in some sort of challenge?”

The scout nodded. “That’s right. And it’s because you’re the Herald of Andraste.”

U’Din frowned in confusion. “What do they have against Andraste?”

“Well, the Avvar have their own gods, you see. Mostly in nature. Since you’re claimed to have been sent by one, they want to challenge the will of their god with the one who sent you.” She answered, and then her face contorted in anger. “You know what I think? I think he’s just a boastful little prick who wants to brag about killing you!”

“Prick is right.” Blackwall grunted, punching his own hand a few times. “That sorry bastard’s going to get what’s coming to him, thinking he can do whatever he wants.”

The blond felt uneasy at the thought of confrontation. “I was hoping we could negotiate. Find common ground or something.”

“These Avvar don’t seem to value diplomacy. Or even use that word, anyway.” Scout Harding then pointed to their north. “In any case, you’ll have to fight your way to them first. The marshes are crawling with undead, hiding beneath lakes and ponds.”

U’Din twitched visibly at the word, and Scout Harding saw it. She smiled a little cheekily at that and asked, “Wait, are you—you’re not scared of undead, are you?”

“...Not very fond of them, no.” The blond admitted, ignoring Sera’s taunts and mimicking of an undead. If her poor acting skills could bother him, they were fucked. He cleared his throat. “But regardless of how I feel, I’m not going to let our men be butchered by these people. We’ll get them back, Scout Harding. Don’t you worry about it.”

She smiled up at him sincerely. “I appreciate it, Lord Inquisitor.”

Harding gave him a map of the region, pinpointing the estimated location of the castle where the Avvar were. She also said that they should avoid the water if they didn’t want to encounter too much undead; they apparently react to disturbances in the water. U’Din took note of that and memorized the pathways quickly, determined to liberate the Inquisition’s soldiers. The mistake he made in the Storm Coast will _not_ be repeated; he’d get those soldiers back even if it killed him. Or even if mud got in his boots.

He groaned and bent a bit to take off his boot, shaking the sticky mud out. Maybe he _should_ have worn those boots that the noble gave him. But they were so _expensive_ ; he didn’t want to waste them!

Sera also groaned from somewhere nearby and said, “Sheesh! Who’d wanna live in this shithole? Those Avvar should have stayed up in their mountains!”

“True. That way none of us would have been forced to come all the way here. But I— _oh drat_ ,” Dorian made a face right after an ominous squishing sound rang in the air. He looked down at his feet briefly before turning away in disgust. “That better be just mud, or I’m going to be very, _very_ upset. And burn things.”

U’Din smiled at the man’s exaggerated plea. “You should have worn boots you didn’t like, then. That way it wouldn’t be such a waste.”

“Now why in the World would I own boots that I don’t like, Inquisitor? _That_ would be the waste. And not to mention just plain _mad_.”

“Then just buy a new pair, then! Whiny snob.”

“Careful, Sera. You were _this_ close to giving me a compliment just then.”

“ _You’re_ mad.”

“No, my dear, the mad one would be _you_.”

The group of four continued on, following the path to an indicated place on the map where they could set up camp. They passed by strange stone markers perched on top of rocky mounds, but they all decided to investigate after setting up the first camp. They had to establish a few more bases first before attempting to confront the Avvar, just in case.

While Sera and Dorian scouted ahead, Blackwall stayed with U’Din who walked at a steady pace. His leg didn’t hurt as badly as before after doing the exercises the Grey Warden advised him to do, but he needed to conserve energy for the inevitable confrontation with the Avvar leader.

“That’s a sound plan. Lessens the odds for nasty surprises later on.” The warden agreed after U’Din told him. The bearded man nodded at him while glancing down at his protected leg. “It’s good to know that the exercises are working for you. Knew a guy with a similar problem; that’s why I thought to recommend the same things he did.”

“And I really do appreciate you sharing them, Warden Blackwall. That was very thoughtful of you.”

The warrior huffed out a laugh. “No need to thank me. And you need all the help you can get; there’s no telling what this Avvar leader has planned for you, so every little thing counts.”

U’Din sighed and nodded. “Yeah. But it would have been better if we weren’t in a place like this. So sticky and smelly and the place just makes my skin _tingle_ for some reason. I’m in totally unfamiliar territory here.”

“That tingly feeling’s just mist, I’d wager. But are you saying that this your first time in the marsh, Inquisitor?” Blackwall asked as he stepped over a muddy log.

U’Din nodded and copied him. “I’ve heard of places like this, but I haven’t really been to one. All I’m used to is the mountainside, the forests and meadows.”

“Not much of an explorer, then? I know there are a few swamps and wastelands in the Free Marches.” The warrior said.

The blond chuckled. “Not really. Even if I was, I’m not allowed outside the camp. The Keeper always kept me close. She probably thought I’d break or something.”

Blackwall raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t say? So you just stay within your camp’s territory? That’s really strange—no one should stay in one spot for such a long time. It must have been torture being so sheltered.”

U’Din hummed, not really sure how to reply to that. In truth, not being allowed to venture out was something that he thought was normal until other people told him that it wasn’t. It was just... his routine. What he was used to. And the only two times that he _had_ been allowed out of the camp ended in him being attacked by a great bear and being chased by undead from an abandoned and haunted human village.

Speaking of the undead—

He jerked to a stop when he heard moaning from the distance, and he reflexively grabbed Blackwall’s arm. The warrior looked surprised when he turned to U’Din, and the blond blushed and waved a hand frantically in front of him.

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to hold onto you like that!”

“O—Okay?” Blackwall accepted, though he sounded confused. “You all right, Inquisitor?”

“Hey, what’s happenin’?” Sera and Dorian appeared in front of them, and it looked like they came back in time to see U’Din making a fool of himself. The elven archer squinted at her friend. “What’s got you pissing your breeches this time, Droopy? The friggin’ _wind_?”

U’Din glared and shook his fist at her. “Very funny, Sera. And for your information, I didn’t— _yeee_!”

He heard another moan, but it sounded _much_ closer so he panicked and held onto the nearest person’s arm—which happened to be Dorian. The blond jumped back from the shocked mage and waved his hand again.

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Dorian! I didn’t mean to cling onto you. It’s just—“ He froze when he heard more moaning, and he turned around to find the source of it. Fuck, were they about to be swarmed?!

The dark-skinned mage gave him an appraising look before chuckling throatily. “Jumpy one, aren’t you? Do hope you don’t do that around mud puddles. I fear that getting dirty is inevitable, but I _do_ want to stay clean for as long as I can.”

U’Din looked sheepish and turned back to his companions, rubbing at his stump of an arm. “Y-Yeah, sorry. Will try not to do that often. It’s just— _yeee_!” He jumped again after hearing water splashing from somewhere, and holy fuck, did that mean the undead were rising from the water or something?! He wasn’t mentally ready to face those things!

“Hey Droopy, check this out!”

Fire appeared inches in front of his face, and he jumped five feet in the air away from it. He gave Sera a death glare as she laughed at him, waving the lit arrow in the air like a loon.

“That wasn’t funny, Sera.” He grumbled, eyeing the flame uneasily. He still wasn’t very comfortable being near fire, especially after what happened to his leg at Haven. His Keeper’s warnings echoed in his head, and U’Din took another step away from Sera for good measure.

She blew a raspberry at him and said, “Geez, Droopy, lighten up, would ya? Oh, _hahahaha_!” Sera turned around and nudged Blackwall’s back. “Did you hear what I just said? _Lighten up_. And I’m holding this light! Hahahahahaha, I crack me up.”

The warrior snorted and shook his head fondly at the archer, telling her that she was nutters. She took that as a compliment and later proved it when she ventured into a nearby body of water, immediately undead sprang from the murky waters.

U’Din balked and shrieked at his friend, “SERA! You idiot! You fucking woke them up!!”

“Oh for all the—” Dorian cut himself off and sighed. He waved his staff, and U’Din immediately felt that horrible, _ugly_ magic wafting in the air around him. It made him wanna hurl. “Oh well. I guess I could use some practice. Shall we, Inquisitor?”

The blond shook his head lamely, but his companions were too busy charging at the grotesque things to see his reaction. The eerie moaning, exploding arrows and dark magic ( _tingles!_ ) made him wanna just sit this one out and pretend he wasn’t there. But an undead archer started stretching its bow and aimed at him, completely destroying the Inquisitor’s hopes of not dealing with the fucking things.

U’Din struck the creature with lightning, applying more power and screaming more than necessary.

 

* * *

 

“You don’t _really_ plan on using him. Are you?”

Solas’ head shot up, startled at the voice. He turned away from his research to see Cole standing by the entrance of the atrium where he claimed as his haunt. The ancient elf blinked at the spirit who looked anxious.

“I beg your pardon, Cole?” He asked, standing up from his desk.

“You...” Cole looked down and played with his fingers, head swaying as he muttered, “Must be careful, do it slowly. Sow the seeds of trust, nurture with faith and guidance, then reap loyalty. If it grows into a weed, cut it down. No room for error, _none_.”

The elf immediately understood what Cole was talking about. He sighed and pinched his nose, shaking his head. “That’s... It’s not as horrible as it sounds.”

“Yes. But that’s what it means. What you plan to do.” The embodiment of compassion vanished and appeared in front of the desk. He trailed his fingers over the surface of the desk, scratched by... something sharp. He tilted his head at them in interest.

Solas noticed that and frowned. Memories of shredded paper flashed in his head; he didn’t want to _consider_ Cole being the culprit, but given his behavior right now, Solas had no idea waht else to think. “Were you... the one responsible for that?”

“No. _I_ don’t have a reason to.” Cole answered bluntly, turning to tilt his head at Solas this time. “ _I_ know you don’t intend to do anything wrong. I... I understand that. But I really hope you won’t do it. _Please_.”

“If you understand that my intentions are not wicked, then what is the problem?”

“Because you two are going to hurt from this. I _know_ it. You—“

“Cole. Please.” Solas interjected, giving the spirit a tired, helpless look. “This—This is something that must be done. For... For the people. To bring them back to a life of freedom and no fear, I have to do this. I’m the only one who could.”

The spirit of Compassion frowned sadly, clenching and unclenching his fists. “But you don’t want to, though.”

“Well, sometimes we do things we don’t want to for the greater good. Because there’s nothing left to do—because we don’t have a _choice_.” Solas retorted, unaware of Cole flinching at his choice of words. “I’ve made mistakes in the past, Cole. Some just recently. I want—I want to correct them. And I’ll do anything to redeem myself.”

“...I know. But—” The spirit looked absolutely distraught—unsure how to react to Solas’ resolution. On one hand, Solas had the best intentions in mind, so he wasn’t necessarily _evil_. On the other hand—

“But what if this is a mistake, too?” Cole asked quietly, looking up to meet the mage’s cool gaze. “This will only hurt him. And _you_ , in the end.”

“...I won’t get hurt, Cole.” Solas answered, though it sounded more like a hopeful promise than a statement of fact. “And he won’t get hurt, either. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Unless he finds out.”

“...Yes.” The ancient elf relented, sitting back in his chair to get back to his research. Solas sighed and looked like he was going to add something, but decided against it.

Cole walked over to the desk and sat on it, making sure to avoid the spot where Solas’ works were. He swung his legs as Solas took notes. Both of them were shrouded in a cloak of silence for a while, and the elf started to wonder why the spirit was still there.

“...He looks up to you, you know.” Cole began quietly, fiddling with the hem of his worn-out shirt. “You’re skilled, strong, smart. He likes those qualities in a person. He... doesn’t think he has them. He also likes your little jokes and teasing, even though he acts like he doesn’t. He likes... _you_. He likes you a lot. More than he’s aware. More than he’s willing to admit, especially after Mahanon hurt him.”

Solas stored away the information as he wrote (including the one about a _Mahanon_ ), trying to convince himself that the warm feeling in his chest was relief and not... well, perhaps it could be. But if U’Din’s feelings for him were inclined in _that_ direction, it would be easier to get U’Din to join him, or at least cooperate.

“No, no, _no_ , that wasn’t meant to encourage you. Try again, _try again_.” Cole despaired with a whimper, clutching and shaking his head. “Don’t do it, Solas. Please! You don’t mean it that way. _You_ like him too. You two _like_ each other. You’re not supposed to hurt! You’ve hurt too much already!”

The elf’s head shot up when Cole clumsily jumped off the desk, almost falling on his knees. He stood up and went to the spirit’s side; concern etching his features. “Cole! Are you all right?”

“Please. Please, _please_ don’t go through with your plan, Solas. It’s not right. Not right!”

The pained look on the spirit’s face made Solas draw away, and he turned from Cole to hide the guilt. “I—I told you, Cole. This—This is the only way. I _must_ get U’Din to join my side. And the only way is to do that is to earn his trust, be his closest friend here.”

“Why can’t you just _do_ that, then? Be his friend, his _more_ , because you want to _be_ his friend, his more! You want it. I know you do! But you still want to hide it from him.”

“ _Cole_.” There was a warning edge to Solas’ call, but it only encouraged the spirit further, and the mage’s eyes widened at the intensity of Cole’s exclamations.

“You keep pushing and pushing but pain is all you’ll ever attain from this! Both of you don’t need any more of that! Especially him!” The spirit’s exclamation was breathy, _exhausted_. Something was wrong with him. “U’Din the Spare. The spare, the-spare, _thespare_ , _despair_ —that’s what he thinks of himself. Years of hurt harrowed him, and now he is hollow. A _husk_! An empty shell will crack much faster under the _tiniest_ pressure. Don’t be that pressure, Solas. Don’t push! Pull back, pull back!”

“Cole, please calm yourself or you’ll—“

_“Chuckles? Kid? Are you two here?”_

The two turned to see Varric entering the rotunda. He looked around for them, in the middle of saying something, “You two are _not_ going to believe this. It’s—“

He saw Solas and Cole, and he immediately stopped in his tracks. The way the two were standing suggested that they were in the middle of... an argument? Can Cole even argue? The dwarf shuffled awkwardly in his spot and scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh. Did I come at a bad time?” He asked with a bit of a chuckle, though there was a cautious edge to his voice. “Because if I did then, well, I could just leave. I mean, what I’m about to tell you is _pretty_ important, but if you two are—“

“Master Tethras, how may I help you?” Solas cut in quickly. His eyes shifted to where Cole was, and it seemed like the spirit had calmed down, though he still wrung his hands nervously.

Varric eyed the two of them uneasily. “Seriously, I can come back. The Seeker would probably throttle me for not fetching you two since it’s so important but _really_ —“

“There’s no need.” Solas interjected, showing just a hint of irritability. He cleared his throat and added, “Go ahead. What news do you bring?”

“Well. If you’re sure.” Varric sighed and scratched the back of his head. “See, we just got some... visitors. Two of them, in fact. You really _won’t_ believe who they are, and I’m really glad Willow isn’t here because he’s probably going to _freak out_. Which is awful given that he’s been doing so well. Those two have the _worst_ timing, honestly.”

Solas frowned at the vagueness of the dwarf’s reply. “What are you talking about? Who’s here?”

“Dalish clan members. _Willow’s_ Dalish clan members.” Varric sighed, missing the way Cole tensed behind Solas. “And they’ve come to take him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol guess who those Dalish elves are :))) Well, I wouldn't include them in this story if they didn't have a role to play. Let's just say that things are gonna get a bit ugly (again), but at the same time also kinda great because the Solas romance flag will be in the next chapter! ...I think. Hopefully. =))
> 
> I'm perfectly fine with people being angry with Solas, by the way. I'm not offended at all; in fact, I purposely wrote him this way because I feel like this would be close to what his thought processes would be in canon. However, let me remind y'all that Solas is a HUGE hypocrite. And a self-righteous ass who follows his own version of justice. I realized that after playing the game so many times and interacting with him using different characters that he often contradicts himself, too. So go ahead and hate on him now, but I promise he won't be an asshole forever. Or at least, epiphany will knock him out so hard that he'll go back into uthenera HAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> Thank you all for being patient, and for reading, giving kudos and commenting <3 You all help fill a pretty big void in my heart! I deleted my old Tumblr and made a new one, by the way. It's prodigal-san. I wanted to start fresh with a Tumblr for fanart and reblog stuff so yeah. If anyone's been wondering why my page was missing, there you go.


	23. Jinxed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH, took me forever to edit this. And it's so long, ugh, sorry about that OTL The next few chapters are gonna be quite... drama-filled after this. So yeah, PREPARE TO BE FRUSTRATED AT VARIOUS THINGS XD
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd

_It happened while he was out on the training grounds—he had just mastered how to summon a storm powerful enough to slay an army of hundreds when one of his master’s generals came to drag him away from the rest of the group. He was told that their master wanted to see him, and immediately he tensed and wondered what he had done wrong._

_Master was waiting for him in his grand study, beautifully lit by veilfire and adorned in obsidian and silverite. He knelt down in front of the regal-looking man, but he was quickly told to rise. He had just stood up when suddenly a familiar cloak was placed in his arms._

_His eyes shifted towards the smiling general who fetched him, and his eyes widened in realization._

_His master started saying that he was very impressed with him, stating that he had undeniable, natural talent. He went on and said that it would be a waste to just keep him within the lower ranks, so from that day on he’d be one of his trusted generals._ Well done _, he praised._ You’ve earned it.

_He didn’t know what to say. He looked down at his arms and hugged the cloak to his chest. It took only a few seconds before he buried his face in his new uniform, failing in keeping himself from crying in happiness._

I won’t let you down _, he swore._ I won’t.

 

* * *

 

“Now, look at that.” Cullen huffed a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the new recruits perform drills. They were... _enthusiastic_ , to say the least. “I haven’t seen such vigor since—well, _ever_. Not this late in the day, anyway.”

“Because most of them should be heaving and wishing that they had never met you around this time, right?” Varric joked beside him, earning an eye roll from the blond commander.

“Perhaps.” Cullen smirked a little, but his eyes showed that, despite him accepting the joke, he was rather proud of the new recruits. He just hoped none of them take it too far; it wouldn’t do good for any of them to collapse due to exhaustion.

Cassandra crashed her shield against a recruit, causing him to fly backwards to a few trainees. She sheathed her sword and started barking at the recruits, reprimanding them for their _sloppy footwork_ _and lack of vigilance_. The brunette pointed at a trainee and asked him to stand in front of her, most likely for a demonstration.

Varric winced when the poor man howled in pain after being subjected to a “real shield bash.” The dwarf clucked his tongue and shook his head in sympathy. “Yeesh. Looks like the Seeker’s much more unbearable than you are, Curly.”

The smile on Cullen’s face was anything _but_ sincere. “I believe she’s practicing for when she finds out who this _friend_ of yours is, Varric. The one you plan to contact about Corypheus.”

“What? _Me_? Now why would she want to practice doing _that_ to me?” Varric placed a hand over his exposed chest, looking slighted. When Cullen rolled his eyes again, he added, “Besides—we need all the help we could get to defeat this psycho, right? Killing me over sending a _letter_ seems contrived, even for the Seeker.”

“What _about_ me?”

They had been so busy conversing that they didn’t notice Cassandra walking up to them, wiping the sweat on her forehead with a cloth.

Instead of answering, Varric just laughed and said, “Boy, you _sure_ didn’t take it easy on them, huh? I’m surprised you still left any of them standing!”

“How do they expect to learn if I treat them like spoiled, noble children? Very few of them have ever held a shield before now.” Cassandra scoffed at him. She let the cloth hang over her shoulders as she looked back briefly to watch the recruits practice the move she just demonstrated for them. The side of her lips lifted at their vigor.

“But I’ll admit, there seems to be potential in these recruits. I’m impressed, Commander.”

“Very little of this was my doing, Cassandra. The only reason why these recruits came here in the first place is because they’ve heard of the exploits and recent _resurrection_ of the Herald of Andraste. So it’s the Inquisitor you should be thanking, not me.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” Cassandra chuckled, but she conceded.  “But I agree; it wouldn’t be possible to have these many followers now if it weren’t for U’Din. It’s because of him that we’ve come this far, and with him leading us now, I believe he can put a stop to this Corypheus and his nefarious goals.”

“Ooh, _nefarious_. Someone’s been reading— _whoa_!” Varric dodged a half-hearted swipe from Cassandra, seeking refuge behind Cullen. “And _I_ was the one who told you guys that he’d come around if you start being nice to him. The guy’s got a good heart, and a little encouragement would give him the confidence to act on his saintliness.”

“He _is_ a rather nice bloke, isn’t he?” Cullen commented. Then he sighed. “Although, it _is_ rather unfortunate that it has to be buried under all that insecurity. How a man of his talents would _ever_ second-guess himself is beyond me.”

“I blame the whole _sheltered his entire life_ thing. But let’s not talk about that—have you guys _noticed_?”

Cullen and Cassandra raised their eyebrows at the cheeky grin on the dwarf’s face—as if he was implying that he knew something they didn’t. Cullen didn’t mind, but for some reason the Seeker always rose to the bait. Especially if it was _Varric_ doing the baiting.

“Noticed? What do you mean?” She practically demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“About Willow. Like, _recently_!” The grin on Varric’s face was so bright it rivaled the sun.

Cullen squinted a bit, though he convinced himself it was _not_ because of the dwarf’s solar grin. “What about the Inquisitor? Is something wrong with him?”

“Something wro— _come on_! Don’t tell me you _really_ haven’t noticed?” He let the question hang, just to give the two humans time to come up with the answer. Seconds passed, and the two warriors _still_ looked quizzical—Varric was just about ready to feel sorry for the human race. “Really? Nothing at all?”

“Just spit it out, dwarf! What’s the issue with Lord U’Din?” Cassandra demanded, shaking her fist at him.

“That’s the thing! There’s _no issue_ with Willow anymore!” The dwarf’s arms shot up in the air enthusiastically. “Well, there’s still quite a few, I’m sure, but seriously! Didn’t you guys notice that he’s—I dunno—more... confident? Outspoken? _Leader-like_?”

Cullen and Cassandra opened their mouths to respond, but they were shocked to find out that they had absolutely nothing to say. They exchanged glances briefly before looking away to contemplate the dwarf’s words.

“U’Din? More confident?” Cullen tested the words on his tongue. The claim would _seem_ funny to those who knew him personally, but now that he thought about it... “Well, I suppose. He is _much_ less of a nervous wreck than before, at any rate. And he’s been willingly contributing his opinions during meetings now. He usually keeps quiet about those.”

“True. I—I didn’t really notice it before but,” Cassandra paused as she furrowed her brows; arms crossed over her chest. “U’Din is much less reluctant than before. We didn’t even need to _convince_ him to agree to go to the Empress’ ball. I thought we’d have to do a bit of wheedling to get to that point.”

“I found that to be curious as well.”

“You also _probably_ noticed that he doesn’t even flinch around you as much anymore, Seeker.” Varric added helpfully, still wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. “Like he’s no longer afraid of you! As much.”

“I—“ Cassandra cut herself off and looked at the ground in astonishment. “That’s—That’s actually _true_. I was never aware of it, but he _is_ much more friendly towards me lately, and... huh. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Ha! See? Told ya he’d come around!” The dwarf boasted, placing his hands on his hips.

She made a disgusted noise. “Watch it, Varric. Your humility is showing.”

“And you seem to be _quite_ passionate about pointing out the Inquisitor’s newfound confidence.” Cullen joked good-naturedly.

“Of course I am! I never once doubted Willow, ya know? I knew he was a good guy deep inside, but he _screamed_ self-esteem issues. And maybe a little bit of _tragic past_. It was keeping him from doing the things he wanted to do, and I really just wanted to help him out, ya know?” The dwarf explained. He shook his head and added, “Look, all I’m saying is Willow’s starting to come out of his tiny shell of self-doubt, which is a _pretty_ big deal considering how he acted around us at first. I think he’s even starting to think we’re all friends! I can’t help but be proud of that.”

Cullen barked out a laugh. “You _do_ sound like a proud father, Varric. Though I do agree with everything that you’ve said; the Inquisitor has come a _long_ way, and I bet things are just going to get better from here.”

“I know, right? And if things keep going the way they are, we’ll kick this Corypheus’ ass, make the world a safe place to live in again, and Willow will—“

“Commander! Cassandra!”

The three turned to see Leliana rushing towards them, Josephine clutching her skirt just behind her. They didn’t look panicked or scared, but they looked... troubled. Upset. The three of them didn’t know whether to think that was worse or not.

“Leliana,” Cassandra began when the Spymaster reached them. She looked at the redhead in concern. “Is everything all right?”

“There’s... a situation.” Leliana began slowly, turning to share a look with Josephine. The dark-skinned woman looked more stressed and frustrated than usual as she turned to look behind her. And following her gaze, the three finally saw what they had missed when they were too focused on the two advisors:

Elves. _Dalish_ elves. Flanked by Inquisition soldiers.

When the group reached them, the soldiers saluted Commander Cullen, and the blond warrior nodded curtly at them in acknowledgment. They all focused their gazes on the cloaked strangers next, and they couldn’t help but feel tense and apprehensive of their presence.

They... didn’t look very friendly.

Leliana sighed quietly. She stretched her arm to gesture towards the elves. “Commander, Cassandra, Varric. These are... the Inquisitor’s clan members. Clan Lavellan’s First and head hunter, Ellana and Mahanon Lavellan.”

The three nodded their heads politely at them, but the elves didn’t even bother to move. Only the slight narrowing of eyes showed them that they heard. The male elf known as Mahanon looked around, eyebrow raised, and he gave them all a quick look before speaking.

“Where is U’Din?” He asked, though it sounded more like a demand. “We’re here to bring him back. Where is he?”

Any attempt at a civil conversation flew out the window at that, and the five of them bristled. Cassandra met the male elf’s hard gaze with one of her own, and she took a few steps forward—

“The _Inquisitor_ went out on a mission a few days ago, along with some of our trusted members. He won’t be back for a while yet.”

The hunter’s lip started curling into a snarl, but he stopped midway, looking like he was just scowling instead. He exhaled and asked, “Then when will he be back? We are not leaving here without him.”

“I’m afraid that is not possible, ser. The Inquisitor has duties to fulfill, and the Inquisition cannot hope to function at its best without him.” Josephine cut in diplomatically before Cassandra could bark out a reply of her own. “Lord U’Din has also expressed his desire to lead the Inquisition against Corypheus—the madman behind the destruction of the Conclave. As it is, I’m afraid I cannot offer anything other than the reassurance that he is safe with us.”

Mahanon turned to the female First. She met his gaze briefly before rolling her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. The slight movement caused the staff on her back to move into view, and some of them tensed even more after realizing that she was a mage.

Well, she _was_ the clan’s First. But that didn’t make the ominous-looking staff any less discomforting to the eye.

“We didn’t come here to negotiate with you shems. We’re here on the orders of our Keeper to bring back U’Din after the disastrous events in the Frostbacks.” Ellana replied coolly. “You have shown that him being with you poses a great risk to him. We _cannot_ take that risk any longer.”

“We also heard he got hurt. That you _let_ him get hurt.” The hunter’s shoulders tensed as he pointed accusingly at them, and from his standpoint Varric could see a giant, golden sword on his back. The dwarf wondered if it was one of U’Din’s works. “If anything happened to him, I’ll have your heads, I fucking _swear_ —“

“Mahanon, _calm down_.” Ellana interjected, ignoring the way the Inquisition members bristled at the threat. She sighed and said, “Forgive my brother. He... has an unhealthy obsession with U’Din, you see.”

“ _Unhealthy_?!”

“Mahanon, _quiet_.”

“Ellana, you heard what _she_ said! We have to get U’Din back before he gets further hurt from this! There’s only—”

“I _know_ , all right? I know! Just—Let me do the talking, brother.” The redhead First commanded silently. She turned to face the Inquisition once more and added, “We’ve allowed you to keep U’Din because we were assured before that he would be kept safe. But the events at Haven reached us, and we know now that, despite your assurances _now_ , you cannot keep your promise. You _will_ let us bring him home where he belongs.”

“That’s _right_.” Mahanon looked smug, chest puffed out.

Varric wasn’t sure he really liked this guy. He was just so... obnoxious, and he didn’t forget the First saying that he had an unhealthy obsession for U’Din. He reminded the dwarf of a troublesome weed, or a clingy vine.

The woman— _Ellana._ He remembered U’Din mentioning her once, way back when they were in the Hinterlands. From the way he spoke of her before, it was like he was afraid of her. He could see why; she was just plain icy. Thorny, from what he could tell. A rose whose beauty was overwhelmed by its thorns.

Did U’Din grow up around these two? That made Varric think.

“Like our ambassador said, that is simply not possible.” Leliana answer pulled Varric out of his thoughts, and from the way she sounded, it seemed like he missed quite a bit of the “conversation” from his ponderings. “We understand that you are concerned, and while we sympathize, it is important for the Inquisitor to remain—“

“No, you _don’t_ understand. U’Din is—he belongs with us. We’ve let you taken advantage of him long enough; he _has_ to come back home.”

“We’re bringing him home no matter what you shems say. We’re not going to let you hurt him any longer!”

“Ser Mahanon, Lady Ellana, please see reason—“

Varric blinked and cried out when he was suddenly pulled away from the group, and he looked up to see Cassandra dragging him away. He winced at the expression on her face—she looked absolutely _furious_. She was probably going to take out her anger on him, or something. _Yikes_.

“This is absolutely _ridiculous_.” She grounded out, letting go of him once they got far away enough. She turned to him, and he almost expected her to punch him. But instead she sighed and made a frustrated noise. “This calls for a meeting. We have to inform everyone in the inner circle what’s going on; we need to come up with a way to persuade the elves to let U’Din stay, and it would be best if we have a plan before the Inquisitor comes back from the Fallow Mire.”

“Not going to beat the crap out of those elves instead, Seeker? I’m impressed.” Varric joked lightly, but deep down inside he agreed with the frustrated brunette.

She shook her head at him and said, “You go get Solas and Cole. I’ll get Bull and Vivienne.” The Seeker didn’t leave room for argument; she marched towards the tavern, deciding to approach the easiest Inquisition member first. That left Varric alone to stare at the vexed advisors currently arguing with equally-vexed and verbally-aggressive Dalish elves.

Varric scratched his head and sighed miserably. He just _had_ to jinx it, didn’t he?

 

* * *

 

U’Din let out a loud, powerful sneeze that made him jump in the air, and he rubbed at his nose irritably. Geez, what was _wrong_ with him? He was sneezing all over the place. He wasn’t allergic to swamps, was he? Was that even possible in the first place?

“Ser! Are you all right?” A worried voice called out, and he looked back to see the soldiers staring at him worriedly. Some were carrying sacks, and the rest were pushing tiny wagons with metal ores in them.

He smiled at them reassuringly and said, “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m probably just allergic to something right now. It’s no big deal.”

“D’you need to rest, m’lord? You _did_ just defeat those demon things a little while ago.” Another soldier, a female one, asked, carefully carrying the sack with the dawn lotus inside. “You’ve been sneezing for a while. You gettin’ sick, ser?”

“We can take it from here. Vela can escort you back to the camp, Your Worship.”

U’Din waved a hand dismissively, but he made sure he didn’t come off as rude. “No, really, it’s fine. And I’d rather help out gather these requisitions. Are you all right with those, by the way?” He asked, gesturing to the two soldiers pushing carts.

“This is nothin’, ser! Just a bunch’a rocks.” One replied energetically, shaking a wagon in demonstration.

“ _Oi_! Don’t talk to the Inquisitor so familiar-like like that!” The soldier next to him whispered heatedly, nudging him in the side.

“O-Oh, yeah. S-Sorry, Your Worship!”

The blond elf winced, then he laughed nervously as he tried to reassure the soldiers. “Don’t worry about it, honestly; I’m not really one for formalities. You don’t have to treat me differently just because I’m Inquisitor. I’d rather we get along, actually.”

“But Inquisitor, ser, is not proper, is what it is—“

“I’m not going to lord my title over you just because I have it. I’m Inquisitor, it’s true,” He paused, giving them meaningful looks, “But don’t treat me like some god, or immortal being. I’m just like you—someone who wants to get the World back to normal, so we can all be safe. So please, no more formalities. Okay?”

The soldiers gave him awed, surprised looks at that, and they exchanged glances with each other. After a short moment, they muttered their affirmatives, though still attaching titles at the end of their words.

U’Din sighed and turned around before things got more awkward. He looked at the small map in his hands and ticked the gathering points that he and the soldiers had passed. It would be a helpful reference in the future, after all. Then, he switched the map for the requisition list beneath it, scanning the words before speaking again.

“Okay, so we’ve got quite a bit of blue vitriol already, but we need more summer stone. Perhaps we can find more over there?” He pointed towards the west where there were rock mounds and stone walls.

The soldiers saluted and cried out _yessir’s_ , eagerly marching in the direction U’Din pointed at. The blond chuckled a bit at their behavior, but then let out a squeak when his bad leg gave out.

Fortunately for him, a soldier had been tasked to stay with him at all times.

“You all right, ser?” She asked, lifting up the visor of her helmet to properly look him over.

“A-Ah, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t see that hole over there.” He said, pointing at the depressed earth. He easily stepped over it and started walking; the soldier right behind him.

“My Lord, if you’re tired, I can escort you back to the camp.” She began, carrying the light sack over her shoulder. She looked at him worriedly. “You’ve been fightin’ and runnin’ around all day since you came ‘ere. That is, I’m not saying you can’t handle it, but—“

“It’s fine. I didn’t do much during those fights, anyway.” U’Din said, though there was a hint of regret in his voice. The strange stone beacons that they came across were actually able to summon or attract demons. Whichever the case, defeating the demons seemed to break whatever spell was tainting the area. Since it meant less undead, U’Din naturally wanted to reach all four beacons to break the spell.

It also meant tired companions, which he was _extremely_ sorry for. As some sort of penance, U’Din decided to make himself useful by completing some requisitions.

He sat on a rock as he watched the soldiers mine, and he couldn’t help but lament the fact that he couldn’t help out more. He thought about his missing arm and scowled at the stump, hating himself for being so reckless before. Now he was an invalid, a _waste of space_. He couldn’t even smith weapons anymore!

U’Din sighed. Now he was seriously regretting being so careless with his left arm. The one thing—the _one_ _thing_ he did right, and he couldn’t even do it anymore. How was he going to make his companions their gear _now_? He couldn’t even visit Harrit to fit a special armor being developed for him because he was too ashamed (bitter?) to go. He tapped on his chin, thinking of _other_ important things that were gone due to his carelessness: his spirit sword (did he lose the ability?), his satchel (holy _fuck_ , where was it?!) and finally, failing to send a reply to the Keeper about—

He groaned and cursed at himself. Fucking _shit_. The Keeper was probably on a rampage right about now. He should probably send a letter back to Skyhold, just in case something happens—

A waterskin suddenly appeared in front of him, and he almost jumped in shock. He turned to see that his escort had procured it, and he gratefully accepted it.

“Th-Thank you.” He said before removing the knot and taking a drink.

“No need to thank me, Your Worship. You looked like you needed something to drink after all the fightin’ you did today.” She said, sitting on the boulder adjacent to the one he was sitting on.

He chuckled a little. “You forgot the rift-closing. And the walking, too. But really, thank you. You’re too kind.”

The soldier looked like she was about to say something to that, but then she refrained from doing so. They both sat in a moment of silence before the soldier started speaking, causing the blond to turn to her.

“I was there. When you made that speech in the courtyard.” She began. She interlaced her fingers together and placed them on her lap. “It was really _wonderful_ , ser. Inspiring. Made me believe that there was still hope left in this world.”

U’Din reddened and scratched the back of his head. “G-Gee, it wasn’t _that_ special. I just came up with it on the spot, actually. Just said what was on my mind and focused on what was important.”

“Truly, ser? _Wow_.” She said in awe. “So that speech came naturally to you? That really means you’re meant to be our leader! Wait till I tell the others!”

The blond fidgeted on the boulder and clicked his heels together. “N-No, it was nothing. _Really_. I’m just a nobody who got lucky.”

“You’re not _nobody_ , ser!” She exclaimed, looking aghast at what he said. Then she caught herself and coughed into her fist in embarrassment. “D—Do beg your pardon, ser, but if anything, you’re an inspiration to all of us! You’re the reason why I joined the Inquisition, y’know?”

U’Din blinked. “Oh?”

“Indeed, ser. I was just visiting my cousin the day you made that speech, and I wasn’t even going to stay long. But my cous’ insisted that I stay to watch your ceremony, and I thought it would be nice to see the Herald of Andraste up close. Imagine my surprise when I saw an elf walk up there. Didn’t know the Herald was an elf.”

U’Din felt like he should have found offense in that statement, but the soldier’s somber tone made him believe that she didn’t say that to insult him. Instead, he focused on another thing, “Are people omitting the fact that I’m an elf?”

She looked contemplative for a moment before shaking her head. “Not sure, ser. But in my case, it was never mentioned. I only heard stories about you from friends, neighbors. They only talked about what you did, not what you were.”

Fair enough, U’Din thought. He actually thought that was a good thing; people should focus more on what others do, not what their ears looked like, or if they had horns, or how tall they were. But at the same time, he wasn’t sure he liked that people ignored the fact that he was an elf.

It was... unnerving. He didn’t like that people were deliberately leaving out that fact.

“Somehow I’m not surprised that some wouldn’t mention that I’m an elf. It’s not like elves are lining up to be a savior to humanity.”

The soldier chuckled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, not a lot would. So I was really surprised, ser, when I saw you standing up there. And I watched as you were given that sword, proclaimed Inquisitor. Then you made that speech, and I couldn’t help but be... inspired. It made me sign up to join your army that day, ser. I figured that if someone like you can stand among these shems without fear, then maybe I could do it, too. And maybe help save the World, just like you said.”

U’Din flushed. His immediate response would have been _‘it’s not my army’_ , but he refrained from making that statement when a voice told him that it really _was_ his. Technically. He _was_ the Inquisitor. He was going to give Big and Noisy a mental glare when he realized something.

“Wait, what do you mean— _shems_?” He found it odd that a human would refer to another human as a... human. And _these_ humans?

She smiled at him and removed her helmet, along with the metal coif around her head. U’Din was surprised to see ears that were bigger and sharper than what a human would have. And now that he thought about it, her accent was unmistakably distinct. Why didn’t he realize sooner?

He gasped, “You’re an elf!”

“You couldn’t tell, ser? I _am_ a bit on the small side.” She asked, seemingly amused by his reaction. She looked wistful as she added, “Grew up in a shem village to the east. it wasn’t big enough to have an alienage, but the general treatment of elves was pretty much the same. Some shems were nice. But naturally, most were pompous and horrible. Probably thought we were trash, me and my family.

“I accepted at a young age that elves really had no place in this World, and that the best thing I could do was grin and bear whatever insults the shems threw at me. It was the only way to survive as an elf in this shem-infested world, I thought.” She paused to look up at the sky with a small smile on her face. “But then I found out that the Herald was an _elf_. An elf! I was—You have no idea how happy that made me feel, ser. How much it gave me _hope._ If Andraste chose you, shouldn’t that mean we’re more than what the shems say?

“I—I realize that I’m probably just rambling to you, Your Worship, and I apologize for wasting your time,” She bowed her head at him in apology, but the smile was still there as she stared at his feet. “But—I just wanted to let you know that you’re truly an inspiration. To everyone, but most especially to us elves. I hated being an elf before, and at the fact that having larger ears made us victims of hate and injustice. But now I’m proud to be one—because _you’re_ one. It’s— _ugh_ , I’m really sorry, ser, you being an elf just really made me happy.”

U’Din didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, he had been extremely paranoid of the shems in the Inquisition at first because of the stories he heard of how they treated elves. But he became more concerned about bigger issues as time went on, and the knowledge of human racism against elves took a backseat in his head. But now he was reminded of that very issue, and it became apparent to him that most elves all over Thedas had actually _experienced_ said racism.

And he was very much aware that the horrible treatment of elves didn’t stop at verbal abuse.

His heart panged at the thought—and then he became angry. Elves shouldn’t be treated horribly just because their ears were different! Nobody should be, but as an elf himself he felt more strongly for his fellows.

 _Do you realize now how important it is that you take the role of Inquisitor seriously?_ _You can make a difference. Make the shems accept that we’re part of this World, too. And maybe we can be great again, like we once were._

His drew in a deep breath and clenched his fist. Like we once were. Once... we _were_.

“...Ser? Your eyes—”

He blinked and turned to see that the soldier was looking at him worriedly. Like she thought she had offended him. Or was she afraid? He smiled reassuringly at her and said, “Sorry. I just got a little lightheaded. And thank you. That was really touching, and I’m happy that I was able to make you feel that way about yourself.

“But I feel like you shouldn’t just be proud of being an elf just because _I’m_ an elf. You should be proud of being an elf because you _are_ an elf. It’s a huge part of you, and being ashamed of it is like being ashamed of yourself. _Hating_ yourself. And let me tell you... it’s not a very nice feeling.” U’Din advised quietly, though not without passion. He met her gaze and added, “It won’t be easy, I know, and I’m not really sure I’m the right person to tell you all this because I’ve never felt the weight of racism until recently. And I truly feel sorry for what you had to go through; you didn’t deserve to be treated unfairly because of what your ears look like. Nobody does.

“But I want you to know this: others will call you names. Put you down till you believe that getting up is pointless. They will twist your arm—make you do things you don’t want, make you feel ashamed of yourself. They will take _everything_ from you, your possessions, your _happiness_ , and all because they feel like they can.

“But there’s something that they cannot take—and that is your pride. Pride... as well as hope. Pride for what you are, what you can achieve—and hope for a better future. I’ve come to realize that those two things are powerful, and as long as you refuse to yield those, I believe you can survive anything.”

She stared at him in awe, and U’Din could see that her eyes were glazing over, like she was about to cry. She ducked her head briefly before lifting it back up—and his chest warmed at the look of determination in her eyes.

“Yes, ser! I’ll be proud from now on! And I’ll never lose hope! _Ser_!”

He shared her smile and nodded. “I’m glad.”

They started talking about lighter things after that, and soon U’Din found out that her name was Vela (oh _that_ Vela from a while ago!), and that her cousin was serving as a servant in the Inquisition. The way she said that made U’Din think that she expected him to know her cousin. But before he could clarify that, the soldiers who were mining came back and claimed that they had enough blue vitriol to bring back to camp.

The blond stood up and saw the wagons with heaps of blue vitriol and summer stone ores inside, and he smiled at them gratefully. “Thank you so much. Now that we have all we need, we could go back to camp.”

“Yes, Your Worship!”

The soldiers saluted and carried their wagons and sacks, marching back to camp. U’Din shook his heads fondly at their enthusiasm and followed suit; his steps slow and sure. Vela walked by him, like an escort wont to do, and she smiled when he met her gaze. He returned it, but when he turned away he frowned contemplatively—and he thought about what he said to her earlier.

U’Din didn’t know what came over him that made him say all those things to her. He never ever gave advice like that before, so he was really embarrassed because he thought he must have sounded strange. But the situation had been... familiar. And his had mouth started spouting those things before he could stop himself. He was really surprised by what he said, because _he_ surely wasn’t following his own advice. That made him a huge hypocrite, didn’t it?

 _It’s not too late to change, you know._ A familiar voice echoed in his head, and it sounded so earnest that U’Din wondered if it was really Big and Noisy who said that. Did he have _another_ voice in his head?

But... it wasn’t wrong, U’Din thought. He looked at his right hand, then touched the ocarina dangling on his chest. It was glowing a subtle green, mixed with wisps of yellow and white. He grasped the small instrument in his hand.

 _‘Yeah,’_ U’Din thought, closing his eyes. _‘It’s not too late.’_

 

* * *

 

“Sera, friend, I _do_ think it’s unhealthy for you to think about arrows every time I mention— _ah_ , Inquisitor.” Dorian cut himself off when he saw U’Din and his soldier entourage approaching the camp. He greeted him with a smirk of a smile; U’Din didn’t know it was even possible to look so friendly yet haughty at the same time. “We were _wondering_ when you’d be coming back. We were _just_ about to form a search party! But not before making bets on what kept you. I placed a few silvers on rifts, just so you know.”

“Silvers?” The blond blinked, then he turned to see the pile of coins in front of the fire. He stared incredulously at his companions. “You were _gambling_?”

“You _bet_ we were! Oh—hahahahaha, I made a funny again! I’m on a roll!” Sera slapped her thigh, thoroughly entertained by herself. “I bet on you getting stuck in a ditch. Not because I wanted you to fall into one, but it would have been _really_ funny if it were true, hahahahaha!”

U’Din scowled at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sera.”

“Anything for Droopy, the Inquisitor!” Sera made a mock salute and clucked her tongue at him, not looking remorseful in the slightest.

Blackwall, on the other hand, had the decency to look sheepish. “Just a friendly little competition to pass the time, Inquisitor. And after all those demons and blasted undead, we thought a bit of levity would do us some good.”

“And _ale_. Lots of it!”

“Quite right! So, which is it, Inquisitor?” Dorian looked up at him expectantly, cradling his chin on the back of his hand. “Rifts? Undead? _Ditches_?”

“Neither.” U’Din replied sulkily, taking a seat next to Dorian in front of the fire. “I was out collecting materials for requisitions. So, naturally, I was held up trying to look for material deposits.”

“ _What_? Are you taking the piss?!” Sera leaned back against the log and crossed her arms over her chest, huffing and glaring at the ground. “ _Boring_. I should have come with you. So that I can push you down the nearest ditch, _hahahaha_!”

“But how could you have made a bet if you’re with me?”

“Oh, piss, you’re right.” She said, crossing her arms and looking like she was thinking. Of course, that got old _really_ quick, and she looked at her companions helplessly. “So what’re we going to do with all these coins? I vote they all go to me, since I’m the poorest one here.”

“Ah, ah, ah, no swindling your companions, Sera.” Dorian levitated four silvers from the pile, and he cackled when Sera jumped away from the floating coins. “Good grief, woman, they’re not going to _harm_ you!”

“Y-Yeah, well. Just keep your floating coins to yourself, yeah?” She gathered her own share—a handful of coppers, and maybe there was one silver there, too—and placed them back in her coin pouch. “Don’t want your _magicky_ coins, anyway. They’re probably dirty and _bleh_.”

“Oh, woe is me, forced to keep my own hard-earned riches!” Dorian bemoaned and even made a show of placing the back of his hand on his forehead, “What _should_ I do with myself now that I’m—”

“Watch it, Dorian, I have arrows that can poke your _coin pouch_!”

“Hm, hm, I’m afraid that my coin pouch has already been _poked_ , like you said.”

“ _Eughh_ , gross!”

“Maker’s _balls_ , I don’t want to hear anything about anybody’s _coin pouch_!”

“Hahahahaha! You said _balls_!”

The mere mention of _coin pouches_ was enough to drive the conversation to, well, _more coin pouches_. Different kinds. U’Din honestly didn’t know how _coin pouches_ made a clever euphemism for sex organs or whatever, but that was where the trio’s conversation went: _sex_. He found out more about his companions than he ever wanted to know (especially _Blackwall_. He doubted that the Grey Warden intended on participating in the first place, but ever since he drank from a waterskin Sera gave him, he seemed more willing to contribute his own _sexcapades_.), and he made sure to be as unnoticeable as possible to avoid being dragged into their silly conversation.

But, of course, U’Din had the horrible habit of jinxing himself. So while he was helping prepare their supper, Sera called out from the _sexy secret corner_ and taunted him.

“Oy! Droopy! Are we leaving you out of things?” She teased, waving around a waterskin filled with something that suspiciously smelled like alcohol. Blackwall shook his head at her while Dorian laughed. “Just say the word, yeah? So we can talk about things _you_ know. Like, I dunno, picking flowers. And breathing.”

“Sera, I’m not sure you’re aware that he’s the _Inquisitor_ now. Show a bit of respect, would you?”

“Aww, I’m not trying to be mean or anything, yeah? I’m actually being considerate to Droopy! I don’t want to leave him out of things. And talking about smut and sex is probably like talking in a different language!”

U’Din raised a brow at her. He took a quick peek at the bubbling pot over the fire before approaching his companions— _“And Droopy has entered! Hahahahaha!_ ENTERED _!”_ —and taking a sit next to Sera.

“What are you talking about now, you loony?” He asked, grumbling when Sera slung an arm over his shoulder.

“Don’t be so mad, Droopy! I’m just looking out for your innocence!”

“ _Innocence_?”

“Yeah, tha’s right! Don’t want an ol’ virgin like you being scarred for life, after all!”

The blond snorted before he could stop himself. “I’m no virgin.”

First, there was silence. Then, utter chaos followed.

Sera had been taking a swig from her waterskin when he said that, and she spat out the drink in shock. U’Din did his very best to avoid the vapor that followed that emerged from the spittle, and in doing so stumbled back when the blond archer invaded his personal space.

“SAY _WHAT_?!” She grabbed him by his shirt and shook him till his braid came loose. When he pushed her away in irritation, she turned towards the other companions and screeched, “D-Did you hear what he said?! Tell me I was hearing things! _Tell me_!”

“I—I’m not sure, really.” Blackwall blinked, and it seemed like his earlier inebriation left upon hearing U’Din’s revelation.

“Not a virgin?” Dorian sounded _too_ interested as he leaned forward; chin cradled on the back of his hand. “ _Do_ tell.”

The blond flushed a little before snorting. He scratched his ear and tried to look unaffected by their stares. “I—It’s not a big deal, all right? I’ve had sex before, albeit just the one time.”

“The _one_ time, he says! But that means—that means you’ve really had _actual sex_! As in, _for real_!” Sera exclaimed, still gaping at him like he had grown two heads.

U’Din rolled his eyes at her. “As opposed to what? Fake sex? Is there even such a thing as that?”

“You—You’re lying.” Sera said determinedly, crossing her arms in front of her. “You’re lying, Droopy. You’ve never done the diddly yet. And it’s all right, yeah? You don’t have to pretend! We’ll love you no matter what! Sorry for pressuring you into it!”

“Why would I lie about having sex?” The blond mage asked, perplexed at his friend’s behavior. “Do you want me to describe how it happened, then? How I was pushed to the ground, ravaged, then had someone’s prick up my—“

“OH SWEET ANDRASTE!” Sera stood up and covered her ears. “I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”

“Maker, I did _not_ need to hear that.” Blackwall groaned miserably, rubbing his temples and looking like he aged a couple of years.

“Did you say—“ Dorian began, but cut himself off when he realized how vulgar his question was. He cleared his throat and decided to try again, “So your... partner was male.”

“Right.” U’Din affirmed, and he couldn’t help but blink at the dark-skinned man’s stunned look. His companions’ reactions to his alleged lack of virginity made the entire situation less embarrassing and more... U’Din didn’t know how to explain it. Trite? Annoying? “Is that a problem?”

“What? Oh no it’s—“ Dorian cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. “It’s just... interesting. _Very_ interesting.”

“He’s lying, Dorian! Don’t believe him!” Sera shouted from the other side of the fire, pointing accusingly at U’Din. “Just look at him! Droopy _screams_ virgin! He looks too innocent to _not_ be one!”

“ _Aaand_ she screams it for everyone in the camp to hear.” Blackwall lamented. He glanced briefly to the right and groaned when he noticed that the soldiers had stopped what they were doing to look at them. “ _Well_ , the Inquisitor’s reputation is definitely tarnished now. Sorry about that, Inquisitor.”

“You _bet_ it is! I can’t believe—Droopy—not a virgin— _prick_!” Sera sounded absolutely unintelligible now. Well, more than usual.

“What’s the big deal, anyway? Why does it bother you all so much?” U’Din asked, starting to get a bit pissed at his friend’s overreaction. Deep inside he knew he shouldn’t be adding more fuel to the conversation, but he couldn’t help but ask. Did his friends _expect_ him to be a virgin? Why?

His questions seemed to pull Sera back to reality, because she stopped sputtering. But she still looked _really_ dubious and shocked as she considered his question, “W-Well, you just—you don’t look the type, yeah? I mean, with you bein’ shy, and all. And I didn’t even know you _knew_ what sex was before tonight!”

“Hah, hah, _hah_.” The blond mage intoned drily. _Icily_.

“She’s—She’s probably just shocked is all, Inquisitor. Not to mention a little drunk. Don’t let her get to you.” Blackwall said from the side, making U’Din look at him. He looked like he was trying to appease him, so the blond thought that the Warden might have noticed his souring mood.

“What’s so shocking about me not being a virgin?” He asked with a raised brow.

The bearded warrior scratched the back of his head and looked away. “Well, even _I’ll_ admit that I was a bit surprised. There was just this—I dunno, _aura_ about you? But I suppose it was wrong to assume. Sorry about that, Inquisitor.”

“No, it’s... it’s fine.” U’Din sighed and shook his head, not wanting to make a big deal out of the situation. In truth, he currently wanted to _punch_ something right now, but he refused to act on that urge. They couldn’t have known that it would upset him, so it wasn’t their fault.

The stew in the pot bubbled over, and that signaled that supper was ready.

 

* * *

 

“You can accuse me for jumping to conclusions, but,” Dorian began as U’Din was preparing to settle in his tent for the night. “I get the feeling that we may have offended you earlier.”

The blond tensed, but he quickly willed himself to relax. He looked over his shoulder and forced a small smile, shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. Sera’s really just like that. And Warden Blackwall didn’t mean anything wrong with what he said. And you... didn’t really do anything wrong.”

“You say that. But your body language is expressing the exact opposite.” The dark-skinned mage leaned against the pole holding up his tent. “I am more than willing to apologize, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what prompted your reaction. Though, I _do_ have a few ideas.”

U’Din internally groaned when he realized that this was going to be a _conversation_. One that he was not willing to have. And with the person that he still had _no_ idea what to feel about.

On one hand, Dorian was funny and witty; U’Din really liked his teasing quips. He was also very intelligent and skilled, and while U’Din had been on “leave” before becoming Inquisitor, he _did_ have conversations with the man about magic theory. But on the other hand... he was slightly cheeky, and he had mastered a discipline of magic that U’Din absolutely _abhorred_.

The blond placed the vial of hair oil back in one of the sacks and decided that he could pamper his hair later. Right now, he had to deal with a strangely curious mage who _probably_ had the best intentions in mind. He did say that he wanted to apologize, right?

That didn’t mean U’Din had to like him being there right now.

“It’s fine. Really. I was just being overly sensitive about something.” He stood up and faced the mage, figuring that if they were going to talk, he might as well be polite.

Dorian rubbed at his chin at that. “Overly sensitive, you say? About what? You being sexually experienced?”

“That’s—“ U’Din sighed and looked away. He _really_ didn’t like this conversation. “Not really. But um, I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that okay?”

“I apologize. I knew it wasn’t my place to pry, but I felt like you could use a bit of reassurance.” Dorian seemed much less than his usual arrogant self then, and U’Din was surprised to see sympathy on the man’s face when he looked up. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for being rude earlier, and for not attempting to stop Sera before things got out of hand. It was not my intention to offend you, which I _surely_ had a hand in doing, no matter what you say. I hope you can forgive me for my momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Um,” U’Din blinked, not used receiving apologies. Sure there was Cassandra, then the advisors, and finally _Mahanon_ when he did... _that_. But Dorian hardly did anything to him, so U’Din wasn’t sure how to receive the man’s apologies.

 _Graciously._ A voice in his head spoke. He nodded in agreement and gave Dorian a kind smile.

“Thank you, Lord Dorian. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.” He said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable either, so I’m sorry, too.”

Dorian blinked. “Why should _you_ apologize? You’re the offended party here. If anything, I suspect that we should be groveling at your feet for such a transgression towards you.”

The thought made U’Din feel queasy, and he shook his hand emphatically in front of him. “O-Oh, no! Please don’t! I’m—I don’t want anyone groveling at my feet. _Please_.”

He barked out a laugh. “Oh, Inquisitor, you’re a strange one. But I can’t say I don’t appreciate the humility. And being called Lord Dorian, hm, reminds me of home. Is it true that you attach titles to _everyone’s_ name?”

The blond chuckled, and he appreciated the fact that the conversation had become lighter. “I—I guess? I mean, I think it’s the proper thing to do. Most of the inner circle have ranks or titles. And I don’t want to offend anyone, so...”

“Ah. I see.” Dorian said. But then he frowned a little. “So why don’t you do the same to Sera? Or that fellow Solas? Is it an elf thing? But I suppose you also don’t refer to Cole with a title, either.”

“ _Elf_ thing?” U’Din couldn’t help but ask incredulously, but not due to offense. He shook his head and said, “No, it’s, um, a special case, I guess? I tried calling her _miss_ before but that was usually followed by a threat of the physical kind. As for Solas, I used to call him _hahren_ —that means _elder_ , by the way—but recently he told me that I should just refer to him by his name because we’re... _equals_.” His face grew a bit hot at the reminder, and for embarrassing reasons, too.

He shook his head. “And Cole is... well, just Cole. I don’t really know have anything to call him, so I guess I just stuck to using his name.”

“Hm, yes, about Cole. Isn’t he some sort of spirit? _Demon_? I can’t say I know for sure.”

“He’s... a friend. He helped me back at Therinfal, but I’m pretty sure that he was with me _way_ before that. I dunno, I just felt like—“ U’Din shook his head. “Anyway, he doesn’t mean any harm. I’ll vouch for his character, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Willingness to vouch for him does not necessarily guarantee safety, lord Inquisitor. But fair enough,” The dark-skinned mage walked away from the pole and sat on the ground in front of the tent, and he continued when U’Din followed suit. “I’d be a hypocrite if I judged the young man based on my perceived notion about his kind. And being a hypocrite would make me a _much_ less attractive person. Can’t have that now, can I?”

He snorted in amusement. “No. I hardly think it would suit you, anyway.”

“Yes, exactly! Being a hypocrite would be like wearing—oh, I dunno, _plaidweave_. Have you seen what that looks like? Horrible thing.”

U’Din immediately scrunched up his nose in disgust. “I always avoid using plaidweave. It’s such a _loud_ color. Not practical for adventuring or going on missions. Plus it’s just... _ugly_.”

“I _know_ , right! Oh, since we’re on the topic, what’s your opinion on...”

The two of them got into a discussion on _fabrics_ , of all things. Mostly about the practical uses of each material, but U’Din would be lying if they didn’t also talk about their favorite fabrics (weird as that might sound). Dorian _loved_ silk, and he claimed that it was just perfect because it had magical properties. U’Din couldn’t decide between lambswool and darkened samite, though he definitely did _not_ like king’s willow weave.

They were having so much fun that U’Din was taken aback when Dorian suddenly stood up and dusted the dirt off the back of his coat and pants. “Well. I should probably let you have your beauty sleep. Mine too, of course. We have a busy day in the morning. Avvar hunting, yes?”

U’Din blinked. He didn’t realize that they’d been talking for a while—but the moon high up in the sky proved that that was the case. He smiled up at Dorian and nodded, “Yeah, I suppose so. Thanks, Lord Dorian. I found our conversation to be quite informative and fascinating.”

“Oh, pshaw, just call me Dorian. I insist. And _naturally_ conversations with me are _always_ informative and fascinating. Spending a few minutes with me should have already given you that insight.”

The blond rolled his eyes and bowed sarcastically. “Go on then, great one. This unworthy peon has basked in your glorious presence long enough.”

Dorian laughed. “Oh, I _knew_ there was something clever about you. Good night then, Inquisitor.”

“You too, L— _Dorian_. And thank you. For the conversation.”

“Of course! And there’ll be more where that came from when we get out of this dreadful place. I swear, all this _mud_ —“

U’Din chuckled as he watched Dorian grumble to himself on his way to his own tent, and the blond stood up to prepare himself for a night’s sleep. But he paused in his movements when he heard Dorian call out.

“Oh, by the way, I never really did congratulate you on the whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, did I?” The man had lingered a few ways away, and he smiled when U’Din turned to meet his gaze. “Well, good on you. With the way you dealt with the Elder One at Haven, I’m sure you’re going to do a splendid job. I hope you know that.”

Dorian bid him farewell with another goodnight, leaving U’Din staring thoughtfully into space.

 

* * *

 

“So are we all here?” Cassandra began, looking at everyone seated at the table. She nodded when everyone she wanted to speak to was, in fact, present. “Good. We have a few things to discuss. _Important_ things.”

“Is this related to our two guests, by any chance?” Vivienne asked and leaned back in her seat, before frowning when it creaked and made her back hurt. Oh, why couldn’t they have met somewhere with cushions?

Cassandra sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid so. I fear that their arrival has caused a stir, considering their motivation to even come here is quite... problematic.”

“Let me guess,” Iron Bull began as he rubbed his chin. “They want to take the boss back home with them?”

“Wow, that was fast.” Varric laughed from across the table. “But I guess it’s not very hard for a Qunari spy to be able to figure it out, huh?”

“It shouldn’t be hard for _anyone_ , as long as they take a moment to analyze a little.” The Qunari denied, but he was smirking a bit. He crossed his arms and expounded, “For starters, you guys said that boss’s Keeper wants him to return home, right? And she seemed pretty insistent on that. And now two Dalish elves from the Inquisitor’s clan have arrived. What _else_ are they here for, aside from doing what their Keeper wants them to do? Basic logic.”

“Do they honestly think they can simply take the Inquisitor away, just like that? How naive. Also, quite selfish too, considering we’re currently trying to stop a madman from taking over the World. And why just _two_ elves?” Vivienne wondered out loud, genuinely perplexed. “If darling U’Din’s Keeper wants him back so desperately, she would have sent the entire—oh, what do they call their guards? Do they even have any? Oh, I digress, but I suppose you all understand. In fact, I half-expected _her_ to be part of the duo that arrived, in all honesty.”

“I expected the mage woman to be the Keeper too, but I doubt that a clan Keeper could be that young, unless she was just recently appointed as one.” Cassandra circled the table as she spoke, brows furrowed and mouth in a frown. “And I’m not very sure why the Inquisitor’s Keeper desperately wants U’Din back, or would just send two of their clansmen. I do, however, have reason to believe that the three of them know each other personally. Like they were... friends? I cannot say for sure. Perhaps they grew up together.”

“Who are they, then? What are their names?”

“The woman is Ellana, the clan’s First. And the man is named Mahanon. I believe he’s a warrior.”

Cole twitched at the names, and Solas immediately noticed it since he was sitting beside him. The hedge mage heard him muttering to himself, too, and he wondered if Cole knew who those people were.

But Solas recognized the names, too. Ellana was a name U’Din mentioned a few times, and usually the feelings he attributed to that name were not pleasant. Solas could not recall if the Inquisitor ever mentioned a Mahanon, but it was someone Cole just moments ago claimed to have hurt U’Din. The ancient elf had enough reason to believe that these elves were probably not on U’Din’s list of favorite people.

So why were they here?

Cole twitched again, and the hedge mage decided to ask what was bothering him.

“Cole?” Solas called out, and he frowned when the spirit didn’t show any signs of acknowledging him. What was he muttering to himself about? “Are you all right?”

“...Too loud. Voices, thoughts, _threats_. Too loud, too much.” Cole spoke, and his words and behavior attracted the attention of everyone in the room.

Cassandra furrowed her brows at him before turning to Solas. “What’s happening to him? Should we be worried?”

“Frankly, my dear, we should _always_ be worried about the demon.” Vivienne spoke with calm arrogance as usual, but the brief, wary glance she sent Cole’s way spoke volumes about what she truly felt. “I don’t know why we let the Inquisitor keep him. He’s a danger to everyone here.”

“Cole, what do you mean?” Solas chose to ignore the enchanter and faced the frowning spirit. “Are you talking about our guests?”

“They hurt him. They hurt him a lot.” Cole revealed quietly, toying with his sleeve. “U’Din hurts a lot. His hurt is buried deep, but it’s thick and piled on top of the other hurts, so it doesn’t matter how deep they’re burrowed. He thinks about them sometimes, and then I see. I know. I know he hurts because of them.”

“What do you mean, Cole?” Cassandra’s suspicion of him left the moment he mentioned U’Din being hurt by their guests. She went in front of him and leaned close, placing her hands on the round table. “Are these elves dangerous? Do they threaten the safety of our Inquisitor?”

“...No. Not intentionally. But they do.” Cole answered simply, voice strained from the pain he felt by remembering _U’Din’s_ pain. He shook his head. “I-I don’t want them here. I don’t want them to be here when U’Din comes back. They should leave. _Now_.”

“Well, _shit_.” Varric sighed and rubbed at his forehead, utterly stressed. “If the kid is saying what I _think_ he’s saying, then it’s safe to say that Willow’s going to freak out when he comes back. And he was doing so well lately too, _fuck_.”

“What should we do?” Vivienne let the worry creep into her voice. “We cannot have these people damage darling U’Din in any way, but I hardly doubt we could just simply throw them out.”

“Why not?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“My dear, it would be _improper_. And what would that look like to other people? They’d think we were simply throwing them out simply because they’re Dalish elves!” The dark-skinned mage explained. “And not to mention, they’re clansmen of our Inquisitor. Despite what our... resident _demon_ claims, the mere fact that they’re members of the clan that the Inquisitor came from should already merit them a hospitable stay.”

“Not to mention, it might be an offense to the Inquisitor as well.” Solas contributed, ignoring the look Cole gave him for that statement. “It is not in his personality to dismiss people, regardless of how they treat him. He would want us to welcome his clansmen, treat them kindly.”

Cassandra sighed and sat down, looking defeated. “You’re right. But this does not sit well with me—how could it, if they intend to take him back home with them?”

“Seeker, I think you’re worrying about something _completely_ different.” Varric began. When the brunette raised a brow at him, he rolled his eyes and added, “Come _on_ , don’t deny it. Why are you _really_ afraid?”

“Afraid? I am _not_ afraid!” Cassandra quickly denied, banging her palms on the table. She ignored Vivienne’s sigh of disapproval at her “crude behavior” and hissed, “I’m simply looking out for the Inquisitor _and_ the Inquisition. We cannot let these people take him away—clansmen or _not_!”

“Ah, but why do you think he’d even go with them in the first place?” Varric asked, unaffected by her outburst. When she looked stunned, the dwarf realized that he had hit the jackpot and sighed. “Don’t tell me; you think he’s going to leave with them, don’t you?”

“I—“ The brunette warrior clenched her fists before quickly relaxing her hold, looking away dejectedly. She sighed and continued, “Do you blame me? The Inquisitor, he—he wanted to leave before. Right after conscripting the templars, he received that letter from his Keeper. He didn’t outright _say_ it, but I knew the look of a man who missed his home.”

“But Willow’s got a huge responsibility now. Do you think he’d chicken out and just _leave_?”

“Varric’s right.” Iron Bull spoke up after having observed his companions long enough. “The Inquisitor’s a good man. A bit lacking in the self-esteem department, but he’s doing well recently. Might be because of all that he’s accomplished. He might miss his home, like you said, but if I know anything about the boss, it’s that he cares about people. He wouldn’t leave us hanging knowing that he’d be dooming us all if he did.”

“Yes. And he’s the only one who can use that instrument of his to close rifts, yes?” Vivienne added, nodding approvingly at Iron Bull for his contribution. “The Inquisitor is a good man, my dear. I doubt that darling U’Din would desert us.”

“He wouldn’t.” Cole spoke up, looking up from the table. “He cares—more than you’ll ever know. And he’s starting to believe he can make a difference, and he wants to start trying harder. For everyone. As long as he keeps believing in himself, he’ll keep doing his best.”

Solas’ eyes narrowed upon picking up the hidden meaning behind Cole’s statement. Iron Bull seemed to have picked it up too, as well as Varric. True, U’Din had developed a bit of confidence, and it showed in his mannerisms that he had grown to accept his destiny as Inquisitor. But it seemed like the presence of the two Lavellans had a chance of destroying whatever progress U’Din had already made, and cause him to turn back into a man with no ounce of self-worth.

He clenched his fists under the table, and he drowned out the discussion taking place in front of him. No, that was unacceptable; he will _not_ allow U’Din to revert to his old self—he wouldn’t last as Inquisitor if that happened. It would mess up Solas’ plans, and _that_ was out of the question. If these two Dalish elves posed a threat to U’Din, Solas would have to keep a close eye on them. Especially this... Mahanon.

Cole looked at Solas and smiled, though it was bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a lot to take in. I hope this chapter wasn't boring or heavy on crap that isn't Solas x U'Din related. If it was, then I'm sorry. OTL It's integral to the plot, I swearrr. And oh, BTW, I have to mention this: if it's not in the tags, it did NOT happen. Okay? So to those of you who are already coming up with their own theories about Mahanon and U'Din: don't worry about anything. All will be revealed in due time. 
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read, comment and give kudos! You guys give me life <3 Though I have to say, I am at a point in my life where I need a bit of extra validation. :)) Will it hurt to ask for some comments? Especially about the story so far? I'm starting to have that "is my story good enough to keep updating it omg" feeling and it's making me a little... distracted, shall we say. Hahahaha, I sound so pathetic but huhu, it would help me lots.


	24. Interlude III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this scene to insert in one of the next few chapters, but I couldn't find the proper place to put it. So I decided to make it an interlude. You can ignore this update if you like, but if you _do_ read it, I'd be more than happy to hear what you guys think! :)
> 
> Note: Not beta'd.

Solas didn’t know what he was expecting when they were told that the inner circle was going to formally meet with the surprise guests. What he  _did_ know was that it took a considerable amount of effort to not show the displeasure on his face—looking at them now, faces tainted with slave markings and mouths angled in arrogant, unimpressed frowns, he could already tell that he wasn’t going to like the pair very much. But then again, he supposed he _had_ already decided that he wouldn’t like them; after all, he had reason to believe that the two Dalish elves were unkind to U’Din. _That_ was enough to earn his dislike.

They were currently in the War Room since it was the only available space that looked decent and offered privacy. It wouldn’t do well for other guests to eavesdrop on whatever was going to be discussed. And if he was going to believe Varric’s story, the two Dalish elves had apparently proven that they cared very little for subtlety, much to the advisors’ dismay.

“Well. I suppose introductions are in order.” Josephine began, voice proper as usual, but Solas could tell that she was forcing herself to be polite. She tapped once on her clipboard before motioning towards the elven guests. “Everyone, I would like to formally introduce Ellana and Mahanon Lavellan: First of clan Lavellan’s Keeper and head hunter, respectively. They’ve come a long way to reach us, so please do work hard to make their stay... enjoyable.” The discreet pause by the end translated to: _you probably won’t want to but be nice to them anyway._

Most of the inner circle acknowledged the elves present with the tiniest of nods and the politest of smiles. Cole just frowned a little and kept quiet.

“ _These_ are some of the Inquisitor’s most trusted members. You’ve already met us, the advisors, as well as Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and ser Varric Tethras.”

“Hey there.” Varric greeted nicely enough.

“...Greetings.” Cassandra said, frowning a little.

“ _Really_ , Cassandra. Do smile a little. It’s rude to our _guests_.” Vivienne chided her with a light tone and a bit of a laugh.

“This is Lady Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, as well as Enchantress of the Imperial Court.”

The enchantress put on her most charming smile and tilted her head just _slightly_. “I am _pleased_ to make your acquaintance.”

“Over here you have ser Iron Bull, leader of the mercenary camp, _The Chargers_.”

“Hey.” Iron Bull greeted with a smile, but eyes calculating.

“This is ser Solas. He’s been helping the Inquisition and the Herald for as long as it was founded, and he’s been a great help in understanding the Breach and its effects on the real world.”

“You flatter me, Ambassador.” The hedge mage inclined his head at the ambassador before facing the two elves. He still smiled politely at them, but he had to make an effort to keep it in place. “Well met.”

“And finally, over here is—“ Josephine turned to introduce Cole, but the spirit shook his head at her. The ambassador quickly caught herself and cleared her throat. “O-Oh, my mistake. The other members are currently with the Inquisitor himself. You’ll be able to meet them once His Worship has returned.”

“But when exactly _is_ that?” The Keeper’s First crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at Josephine. “We’ve been asking for an estimated time of arrival since we came here, but you shems have done nothing but deflect the question with trivialities. Whatever tricks you plan to use, we won’t let them stop us from bringing U’Din back home with us. Where he _belongs_.”

Cassandra moved, but Iron Bull stepped in front of her to block her path. She growled angrily behind him, and Vivienne gave her a narrow-eyed look.

“Calm down, dear. Displaying your temper like a wild animal isn’t going to help with the situation at all.” She whispered heatedly.

“Who says I _want_ to help with the situation?” Cassandra said through gritted teeth, but stepped down all the same.

“Miss Ellana, we have already explained to you that the Inquisitor cannot simply leave his post. The weight of his duties are too heavy to be passed down to just _anyone_.” Josephine informed her diplomatically, but her body language expressed that she was starting to become impatient with their guests. “The Inquisition cannot continue without him, given all that he has accomplished and the title he has won for himself, and he has sworn to lead the Inquisition on a campaign to defeat Corypheus.”

“He has also sworn loyalty to the _clan_ , and as our Second, his loyalties should be with _us_ first and foremost.” Ellana replied tersely, clenching her fist. “He has _responsibilities_ , some of which only _he_ has been trained to do. U’Din is too valuable, too precious to be left in the hands of shems. And you’ve already proven countless times that you cannot protect him from harm.”

“ _Countless times_? When—“

“The destruction at Haven, for one thing. And we have reason to believe that he’s been constantly injured _way_ before that.”

“How hurt _is_ U’Din? What is the extent of his injuries?” Mahanon asked out of the blue; concern dripping from his voice. Then came anger. “If he’s hurt as badly as we _think_ he is, I’m _really_ going to have your heads—“

“ _Mahanon_.”

“What?!”

Solas narrowed his eyes slightly at the two. He saw an opportunity to ask about one of U’Din’s mysteries, so he promptly took it by asking, “You seem to be hyperaware of U’Din being injured, regardless of having no means to verify such. Is this related to his illness, perhaps?”

The two Dalish elves paused their brief quarrelling. They exchanged looks before turning to him, looking at him _very_ suspiciously. “How do you know about that?”

The hedge mage had to stop himself from grinning triumphantly. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at them. “So he _is_ afflicted with an illness then? One that prevents him from healing properly?”

“Do you honestly think it would be easy for him to hide such a thing from us?” Cassandra asked incredulously, then her gaze hardened as she leaned over the table. “But now that we’re on the topic, we have to ask: what is the nature of the Herald’s sickness? How did it occur? Is there a cure?”

The duo looked at each other again, and there seemed to be a silent war going on between them. One looked concerned, surprised—while the other seemed frustrated that they knew. Solas had to scoff at that; _of course_ they knew! U’Din’s inability to heal properly was unique enough that it _would_ have been discovered eventually. _That_ and the constant bandage-changing. Really, were they that naive?

“If you are aware of his affliction, then he really _is_ hurt.” Ellana began after a while, but it seemed like she mostly said it to herself. She shook her head and asked, “What has U’Din told you?”

“But what is—“

“ _What_ has he told you?”

“...He claims that he’s had his sickness for a long time, and that even your Keeper does not know how to cure it properly.” Cassandra repeated what she had read in Solas’ reports, and with a nod from the elven mage continued, “He says he has reason to believe that there _is_ no cure, and that he would eventually succumb to the sickness and die. Only a special salve made by your Keeper can keep the corruption at bay, but he himself does not know the recipe of that salve so he had no way of making it for himself.”

Mahanon and Ellana frowned at what she said, and then they started a quiet, but heated discussion between them, whispering in Elvhen. The Inner Circle turned to Solas with expectant looks, obviously because they had no idea what they were talking about. The hedge mage then focused his magic, amplifying his sense of hearing to pick up on the following things:

Safe. Does not realize. Three left. Does he know? Of course he wouldn’t know. _Do you have the salve, you idiot_? _Of course_ I do! Cannot let the shems know anything. _Guard the secret at all costs._

Solas raised a brow. _Well_ , now.

“It’s true that U’Din’s suffering from an illness.” Ellana started carefully, and her body language revealed that she did not want to say much about the topic. “He doesn’t... heal. At all. Wounds and bruises worsen instead of healing overtime, and even the shallowest cuts can be problematic. He also has this strange aversion to healing salves and spells, thus he cannot be healed that way either. The only way to prevent the sickness from spreading is to apply our Keeper’s special salve on his wounds.”

“Has your Keeper made attempts to figure out the sickness? Such an affliction should be—“

“ _Of course_ she has. Are you saying we do not _care_ about U’Din enough to do our own research? That we’re just letting this _happen_ to him?”

“I never made such an accusation—“

“Well, you shouldn’t have made it sound like you were. We’ve done all that we can, and right now we’re still trying to find a cure.”

Cole made a little noise behind Solas, and the hedge mage looked over shoulder at the frowning spirit. He made sure that everyone’s attention wasn’t on him before attempting to speak.

“Cole, are you all right?”

“...No.” Cole answered quietly.

“What’s wrong, then? Did you sense something amiss from what they said?”

“...Yes. But,” The spirit looked down and shook his head. “I dunno if I can tell you what that is. Sorry, Solas.”

Solas paused, going back to what the Dalish guests previously said. Then he asked, “Did they lie about trying to find a cure?”

Cole said nothing, but his lips twisted, providing a better answer than he would have by speaking. Solas frowned and went back to the discussion happening before him.

By the end of the day, the advisors and the guests _still_ couldn’t agree on a compromise, but they did concede to waiting for U’Din to return before discussing things again. Varric muttered something about U’Din not being happy about coming home to such a mess, and everyone wholeheartedly agreed.

Solas sighed and went back to the atrium to think. Perhaps it was finally time to put his plans into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whatchu guys think? Did I just give you guys more reasons to hate Mahanon and Ellana? Lol. But I think most of you have realized that I'm frustratingly vague, so for all you know, there could be a reason behind all the secrecy. HAHAHAHA. I'm so evil XD
> 
> I'll do my best to post the next chapter in the next few days. The first major hint on U'Din's identity will be in the next chapter, but I doubt you guys would be able to guess the correct answer right away :)) I got U'Din from a character in canon, but they're so obscure that there's hardly no chance you guys can get it (unless you like _reading_. Wink wonk).
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this short interlude. Please forward to the next chapter! :D


	25. Secrets and Shitty Situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter to be honest lol. Buuut I'm happy that it has the first major hint regarding U'Din's identity! So I can't really complain. Haha.
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd.
> 
> EDIT: Added a few lines between Dorian and U'Din below. Sorry about that OTL

U’Din woke up feeling very disoriented—as well as very _blinded_. The blond squinted and used his hand to shield his eyes before turning on his side to avoid the harsh light. He groaned and slowly sat up, shaking his head to try to get the grogginess out of his system.

But when he lifted his head up, he saw a crystal fountain. He blinked at the sight of it and looked around, and he noticed that he was in a courtyard surrounded by tall, grand trees and columns made of iridescent crystals.

Well, this certainly wasn’t the Fallow Mire. _That_ was for sure.

 _‘Where am I, then?’_ He stood up, looking around. The place was definitely... _familiar_ —like he’d seen, or _been_ here before, but he didn’t understand why that was so. He frowned and adjusted his clothes, and then paused when he felt something off about what he was wearing. He looked down and almost jumped in shock.

His—His clothes! Why did they look so different?!

 _‘What the heck?’_ He turned around as he inspected his new clothes from different angles. The cloak around his shoulders swayed with his movements, and he touched the dark, silky cloth, feeling magic thrum beneath his fingertips. This was... enchanted clothing. He then inspected the rest of his body, and he touched the strange chest plate (shaped like an owl spreading its wings), silver tights (...at least they weren’t gold), and the intricately-designed brassard and gauntlet on his left arm—

Wait. _Left_ arm?

He stared at his left arm with wide, disbelieving eyes. It—It wasn’t possible! He had _lost_ his arm to the corrupt magic of the Anchor! Why did he have it back? Using his right hand, he hesitantly tapped the arm and almost let out an undignified shriek when he realized that it was real.

What—What was going _on_? He was so confused!

A hoot from nearby paused his mild panicking. He looked up to the right and saw a huge tree entwined in crystalline vines, and on one of the branches perched an owl. A very _familiar_ owl, in fact.

“S- _Shivehn_?” The blond approached the snowy owl on the branch, and he furrowed his brows in confusion when it hooted at him in reply. “What—What are you doing here? I thought you stayed at Skyhold!”

The owl blinked at him, one eyelid closing sooner than the other, and in one movement flew down towards him. U’Din extended his left arm and allowed Shivehn to perch on it, and he used his right hand to stroke its feathery chest. A small smile formed on his face when the large bird crooned, but it soon fell when he looked around again.

Where _was_ he?

He felt something shift behind him, and reflexively he got into a battle stance as he turned around. But he was surprised to see that what shifted was the _environment_ , and instead of a courtyard and fountain, he found the entrance to... a large edifice. Some kind of temple, perhaps?

The environment shifted again, and U’Din tried desperately not to get dizzy from the mixing of colors and shapes. When the shifting stopped, he found himself in a dark room filled with clay pots, jewelry, large stone caskets and—a _tomb_?

Shivehn cried out and flew towards the tomb, and U’Din watched as it perched on top of it. The owl looked at him, and it made the blond believe that it was waiting for him to approach. Swallowing, he cautiously walked up to the sarcophagus, looking around to make sure that nothing of the _undead_ variety rose from his movements.

He knew firsthand what would come from trespassing near someone’s grave.

He let a hand touch the surface of the tomb, and he was shocked to find out that it wasn’t made of stone, but from metal. The color made him believe it to be made from obsidian. Or silverite. Or perhaps a unique mix of the two? U’Din felt strangely pleased at the thought. He went around the tomb to inspect it, and he knelt down to admire the engraved pictures on the sides of the tomb. With the way they were arranged, they almost looked like they were telling a story.

In each picture there was always one constant: a cloaked figure. U’Din looked down at his shoulders at that.

Shivehn hooted, and he stood up to find out what the owl wanted. It tapped its feet on the surface of the tomb, and U’Din realized that there was writing on it. _Elvhen_ writing.

So this was an elven tomb. U’Din had no idea why he didn’t sooner realize.

Using his hand, he trailed his fingertips on the embossed writing. From what he read, it seemed like a eulogy—obviously offered for whomever was inside the tomb. Although, it was nothing like U’Din had ever read or heard—it was too personal, too poetic. U’Din’s own made-up eulogies for his deceased clansmen didn’t compare to this.

_He whose corpse lies in this house of chrome_

_Not asleep but dead, ne’er to return_

_Whose life he forfeit to sustain others’ own_

_A fate t’was forced, never earned_

_Whose soul shall wander in eternal unrest_

_Forever trapped in betrayal’s haze_

_But whose name shall be forever blessed_

_From now until the end of days_

He couldn’t help but frown at the words, wondering what kind of eulogy that was supposed to be. It sounded so... horrible. Especially the parts that hinted at _eternal unrest_ and _betrayal’s haze_ —did this man die from betrayal? And why did his chest tighten at the thought?

 _‘At least it got better at the end,’_ He thought.

He looked further down and found more verses, but they sounded much less foreboding than the first one did. One seemed to be a eulogy from the man’s family. Another, colleagues—though that one sounded more like it came from soldiers. The owner of the casket must have been some sort of military persona. He found more eulogies and verbal tributes, and they all expressed sorrow at the loss of the man’s life.

But the last one he saw at the base of the metal casket was different. It sounded too _vengeful_ to be one. It also seemed out of place, like it wasn’t meant to be part of the sarcophagus. And he could clearly see why:

_Wicked villain whose greed has spilt_

_The blood of purest on puppet gilt_

_His eyes you closed, but ours you opened_

_To injustice served but left unspoken_

The blond blinked. This seemed to be a reference to that betrayal the first eulogy mentioned. He read on:

_In name of he whose life you ended_

_We band together with Pride ascended_

_Hark! Take heed, for we are one_

_To avenge our Hope, our—_

U’Din’s reading was interrupted when he heard Shivehn cry out again. He looked up to ask what was wrong, but he too cried out—for in that moment, he found himself blinded by a harsh, white light.

 

* * *

 

He woke up with a start and sat up, and he gasped when something on his chest went tumbling away from him. The white ball of feathers lied still for a few seconds before standing up, its eyes glaring and feathers ruffled up in a show of anger.

 _Hoot, hoot_ it went, flapping its wings at him irritably. U’Din watched, flabbergasted, as it screeched and jumped around, and the most confusing thing about the situation was that U’Din had something to _watch_ in the first place.

“...Shivehn?” He began, rubbing the back of his neck and stretching. He blinked and looked at his appendages, noticing that it was the usual full arm, half arm set. He focused on his left half-arm, imagining something there that could no longer be.

But in that dream, there _was_ something there. And a lot of other things as well.

However, before he could contemplate on what he had seen in his dream, he first had to figure out the enigma that was currently huffing angrily in front of him. He rubbed his eyes and leaned forward, calmly ignoring the glare Shivehn sent his way.

“What are you doing here, Shivehn? _How_ did you even get here?” He let the owl hop on his lap, and he looked down at it in bemusement. “Did you follow me? But how could you have gone inside my tent?”

The owl made a noise that _eerily_ reminded him of how Cassandra usually responded to Varric. And, well, to everything she finds completely stupid. It hopped off of his lap.

When it stretched out its wings, U’Din couldn’t help but gawk at the length of the owl’s wingspan. And its size in general. Was it him or did Shivehn _grow_ a bit? It seemed much larger than he remembered.

“You’re getting pretty big now, Shivehn. Cut down on the food or else you’ll get too fat to fly.” The blond commented humorously. When the owl merely hooted in return, he grinned.

_“Hey, Droopy! Rise and shine!”_

U’Din looked up to see the flap of his tent being pulled open, and he squeaked and unconsciously pulled the cover of his bedroll closer to him as she continued:

“Time to save us some captured soldiers and kill Avvar baddies! And some undead too because they’re shite disgusting! So wake up, tie your stupid hair, make us breakf—what the piss, _where the fuck did that bird come from_?!”

She pointed at Shivehn who just blinked up at her, unfazed. The Inquisitor wished he felt just as nonchalant, but the entire situation (plus the fact that he _did_ just wake up) left him unable to answer properly.

“Well, uh, you see—“

“For the love of all that is not covered in mud— _really_ , Sera? You just insulted the poor man last night, and now you’re here vulgarly pointing at—“ Dorian peeked his head through the flap of U’Din’s tent and paused, blinking at the scene in front of him. His mouth formed an “o” shape as he said, “Oh. You meant _that_ bird.”

“Of course I meant _that_ bird! What else did you think I was talking about?” The blond archer asked irritably. Then realization dawned and she pushed the laughing mage away. “Eugh, _gross_! Why would I talk about Droopy’s junk?! And I wouldn’t be here _staring at it_ if it was out in the open like that!”

“Um, guys? I’m right _here_!”

“Andraste’s tits, you lot sure are making a lot of noise in the morning!”

“By _you lot_ , I do hope you mean _Sera_. She’s the only one being horribly noisy around here.”

“ _Hey_!”

U’Din watched in disbelief as his companions left him alone in his tent. He spent a few seconds staring blankly at nothing before sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose, all the while thinking that it was too early for so much action. He vaguely sensed Shivehn hop over to him and cry a soft _hoo_ , and he reached out to pet the owl’s head. As Shivehn cooed appreciatively, he couldn’t help but think back on the strange dream he had.

He frowned. That courtyard, that temple and tomb. What did they all mean?

U’Din sighed when he heard Sera call out again, complaining about how hungry she was. He also heard Dorian’s scolding voice after that, and that was when he realized that he should probably get up before any of them wake up the entire mire. He shuddered at the thought as he fixed himself up.

Well, at least there weren’t a lot of undead around anymore. Right?

 

* * *

 

 _Aaand_ he was wrong.

U’Din struck an undead archer with a barrage of elemental attacks, sighing in relief when it finally fell. The others had defeated their own undead creatures, and the blond had to stop himself from crying in disappointment at the thought of having to face more of the horrible things.

Defeating the demons and activating the runes on the beacons did _not_ lessen the amount of undead in the area, much to U’Din’s dismay. It made him feel bad about forcing his party to search for the beacons so quickly the day before. The only things they _did_ gain from activating the beacons were a grenade recipe (“Oh, I’m going to _love_ throwing this around!” Sera exclaimed while waving around the deciphered recipe) and the knowledge of a potentially dangerous apostate lurking around. Someone named Windris.

But whoever _that_ was, they’d have to wait; U’Din had a group of missing soldiers to save. A repeat of what happened at the Storm Coast could _not_ occur, and he was going to make sure of that. Come hell or high water, he _will_ save them.

However—

“There’s no sign of the Avvar leader who wants to challenge me, whatever that entails.” He observed, standing on a boulder and looking around the area. “Nor do I see any of our missing soldiers. I do hope they’re all right.”

“They _better_ be all right. And if they’re not, the ones who took them won’t be!” Sera growled, gripping her bow tight in one hand. “I’m going to make their shitty heads explode. Would serve them right!”

“Don’t worry, Sera. What happened at the Storm Coast will _not_ happen again. Not if I have anything to say about it.” The Inquisitor vowed, and the owl hovering above him hooted determinedly in agreement.

“The Storm Coast?” Dorian asked the other companions as U’Din jumped off the boulder to move ahead. “What happened at the Storm Coast?”

Blackwall and Sera winced at the memory, and they exchanged looks. When they all had that meeting without U’Din, the advisors told them to be extra careful about mentioning anything that might discourage or upset U’Din unnecessarily, and that included any of his past “mistakes.” The incident at the Storm Coast was one of those things, even though nobody but the blond mage obsessed about it. They couldn’t really blame him, but it was unfortunate that he continued to hold himself responsible for it.

“Well,” Sera began, but she waited until U’Din and Shivehn had gone on ahead before continuing. Blackwall nodded and followed the Inquisitor so he wouldn’t be suspicious about them lagging behind. “There was a similar situation at the Storm Coast, yeah? A bunch of scouts went missing after talking to a group of bandits or something, and we were asked to check it out. When we reached this shack, there were bodies everywhere. And, well. Droopy didn’t take that very well.”

“I suppose he felt responsible for their deaths, then.” The dark-skinned mage inferred quietly, his brows meeting in the middle.

“Yeah. But, you know, he took it _very_ badly. Like, really bad.” Sera began, looking towards the direction where U’Din and Blackwall went. She had a wistful look on her face as she continued, “I found out from Solas that Droopy hates violence. Hates killing people without a good reason, and he’s not a big fan of death. But he kills when he needs to, Solas said, so when we went to deal with the bandit leader, Droopy killed him without batting an eyelash.

“He... cares a lot about people, see. No matter who they are. Where they come from.” Her hand went up to her chest discreetly, but Dorian noticed the act. “I may tease him a lot and shite, but he’s probably my best friend right now. I trust him with my life. Even if he’s got that weird, horrible magicky thing.”

“It’s not a thing, it’s a skill. A _gift_.” Dorian rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let that small slight distract him from the topic at hand. “So he hates death and killing, you say? That’s... odd. Doesn’t he do that constantly? He _is_ the Inquisitor. But I suppose that’s why he’s such a quiet man. Morose at times, even.”

“Morowhat?”

“Morose. Gloomy. Miserable. _Sad_.”

“Oh. And yeah, I know, right? That’s what I told Baldy! About it being odd and stuff.” She sounded delighted that someone thought the same thing as she did. “But like I said, he kills when he needs to. Solas said something about it being a “necessary evil” or whatever.”

“Ah. Of course. So is that why he’s so afraid of the undead, then? Because they remind him of death?”

“...Huh. I never thought of it that way. But maybe? I dunno? _Ugh_ , all this thinking is messing with my head! Stupid Droopy, being all complicated and shite.”

“You know, for someone who claims the Inquisitor to be her best friend, you really don’t do a lot for him.” Dorian narrowed his eyes a little at her, rubbing his chin. “Should I be worried?”

“S— _Shut it_! I do _lots_ for him!”

“Hm, _right_.”

They ended their discussion there, and just in time, too. U’Din had gone back to look for them, claiming that he and Blackwall had come across an Avvar who was staring at a tear in the Fade. The Warden had wanted to land a sneak attack, but U’Din thought that they should try to talk to the man first.

“His name is Amund. He’s a _Sky Watcher_ , he said. Probably some sort of priest.” The blond explained as they went on their way, ignoring the obnoxious snort from Sera. “We asked him about the missing soldiers, and he said that they were alive the last time he saw them. If he’s right, I think the Avvar chieftain’s son really just wants to pick a fight with me.”

“What’s he doing out here, then? And without any other Avvar with him?” Dorian asked, raising a brow in suspicion.

“I don’t really know. But he seemed... nice enough. Shivehn seems to think so, too.” U’Din replied, pointing at a run-down shack nearby. True enough, there _was_ a rip in the Fade _and_ an Avvar staring right at it. Or had been, if he wasn’t so interested in Shivehn at that point.

“Sky Watcher Amund?” U’Din called out, and doing so made the Avvar look away from the owl perched on a crate near the tear.

“Hm? Oh. Lowlander Herald.” The Sky Watcher seemed surprised that he had come back. He briefly let himself be distracted by Shivehn’s flight before turning back to U’Din. “I thought you’d be on your way to get back your missing soldiers from the chief’s whelp.”

“Yes, and thank you for the information about our soldiers. That was very kind of you.” U’Din said politely, and then he gestured towards the tear in the sky. “But I’d like to get rid of this first since I have no idea if I’ll be able to get back to it. Would you mind stepping back a little? Opening these things can get rather messy.”

He could practically see the Avvar’s eyebrows rise up behind the man’s mask. “Open? Why would you want to open that thing?”

“So I can close it properly.” The blond mage answered simply. He dug in his shirt and pulled out the glowing ocarina. He turned to his companions and said, “Stand back and prepare to engage the demons.”

His three companions nodded and took a few steps back, drawing their weapons. When U’Din made sure that the Sky Watcher was also at a safe distance away from the rift, he took a few steps back, covered a few holes with his right hand and blew.

The high-pitched whistle filled the air, and a green tether appeared between the rift and the instrument, growing thicker as U’Din maintained the note. The single tear started spreading, and little cracks grew and grew until the rift itself was torn open—and the response was immediate: demons _and_ undead.

U’Din swore under his breath and called forth a chain of lightning.

His companions joined the fray immediately—Blackwall knocked back several undead clustered together, and Sera and Dorian focused on the pesky wraiths that were threat when left alone. Even the Sky Watcher had joined the battle, striking the undead that Blackwall hadn’t been able to knock down.

A rage demon appeared at the end, and U’Din rubbed his fingers together to prepare a frost spell. He stood next to Sera who had coated her arrows with ice after seeing it, and Blackwall ran up to the demon to taunt it. Dorian was at sides, commanding the fallen wraiths and undead he had defeated to fight in his stead. U’Din tried not to let the awful, tingly magic distract him from the fight.

When Blackwall landed the finishing blow, U’Din reached for the ocarina again and blew, all the while thinking, _close, close, close_. He had quickly realized that despite using the same note, he could do a lot of things with the ocarina as long as he had clear intentions behind his magic. The tear he had opened only moments before starting to shrink, and it didn’t take long for it to vanish from the skies.

He sighed in relief and tucked the ocarina back inside his shirt. And then he blinked in surprise when the Sky Watcher suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Lady of the Skies! You really _can_ mend the skies, can’t you?” He exclaimed breathily, looking between him and where the fade rift had been.

The Grey Warden looked like a cross between smug and unimpressed. “There _is_ a reason why so many people follow our Herald, you know.”

“ _You_ —Well I’ll be. Maybe you _do_ have a god’s favor.” He sounded particularly awed and, strangely enough, turned to look up at Shivehn perched on the branch of a tree. “Is that why you have _that_ following you around?”

The Inquisitor blinked. “I’m sorry? What’s following me?”

“That owl you have there. You don’t know what it is?” Amund looked at him in disbelief.

U’Din blinked again before looking up at Shivehn uncertainly. What did the Avvar man mean? Shivehn _was_ just an owl. Right? “I’m not sure what you mean, Sky Watcher.”

The Sky Watcher looked like he was going to say something else, but Shivehn had swooped down on top of U’Din’s head and hooted. The two of them seemed to share a look, much to the Inquisitor’s confusion, and then something dawned on the man’s face. He snorted and shook his head.

“All right. Not my business what the arrangement between you two is, anyway.”

The blond looked bothered. “Arrangement? What arra—“

“ _Well_ , I better offer some prayers for the chief’s whelp now. No way that arrogant boy’s going to defeat _you_ , Healer of the Sky.” Amund said, lifting his hammer and walking away. “Stay safe, aye? And watch the water.”

U’Din wanted to call out to the man, but he thought against it when Sera told him that they should _probably_ get a move on because, hello, _missing soldiers_? He conceded and led them to the path that would take him to the Avvar, but all the while he couldn’t help but look up warily at the owl hovering above his head. He remembered the strange dream he had again and shook his head.

There will be time to think about that later. Right now, they had soldiers to save.

 

* * *

 

On the way to confront the Avvar chieftain’s son, U’Din had been horrified to find out that a crowd of undead were blocking their path. Fortunately, Dorian’s necromancy (he admitted begrudgingly) and Sera’s fire-coated arrows got rid of the bulk of the creatures. He still froze and felt strange tingles every time Dorian used that dirty, vile magic, but he managed to ignore it and press on with his companions. (Although when Dorian released one of his spells, he turned and noticed that U’Din had given him a weird look. He blinked and wondered what he had done to offend the Herald.) On their way up to the keep, they encountered Avvar bowmen and swordsmen on their way to the leader, but Blackwall easily dispatched them with his quick and calculated swordplay. Pretty soon, they reached their destination.

The Avvar leader’s son was waiting for them in the hall of the ruined castle, and they barely managed to speak before U’Din was shielding him and his companions from an onslaught of arrows. The Avvar exclaimed that he was the Hand of Korth himself, challenging U’Din to face him. The Inquisitor groaned; _so much for negotiations_ , he thought.

“So we’re just gonna take him out, yeah?” Sera said, coating her arrows in flames.

“Unfortunately. You guys still okay to fight?”

“Okay? _Hah_ , I could do this all day!”

“Let’s end the sorry bastards!”

U’Din nodded, and with a carefully aimed lightning bolt, the battle began.

The Avvar bowmen rained arrows on them, but they were easily deflected by magical barriers and calculated side-steps. He instructed Dorian and Sera to focus on the bowmen first while he assisted Blackwall in distracting the warriors. The chieftain’s son had unfortunately targeted U’Din personally, and much to the blond mage’s frustration, he had to keep running around to evade the powerful swings of the Avvar’s gigantic hammer. Even Blackwall’s taunts couldn’t distract the large man from his onslaught on U’Din. The blond wanted to spare the Avvar and only leave him unconscious, so he tried his best not to lose his temper and just keep evading until he found a weakness.

But that was before the blond heard the cries of the captured and bound Inquisition soldiers from a locked room. Then he started seeing red.

Images of dead bodies littered on the floor of that shack in the Storm Coast flooded his vision, and a thirst to avenge—a thirst to _redeem himself_ consumed him. The thirst built up in his throat, and it grew and grew till he finally had to stop running. The Avvar’s hammer started falling, threatening to break his skull, but it merely bounced off a renewed barrier. He glared up at the Hand of Korth through vivid violet eyes.

 _He would do right by these soldiers_ , he promised himself. He would _not_ let them die; not like the scouts back in the Storm Coast.

He quickly shouted commands to his companions, telling them to focus on the bowmen and leave the leader to him. He didn’t even wait for them to acknowledge his order; he just collected mental energy and released it. When the man didn’t stagger back, he cursed and struck him with a lightning bolt—and _that_ sent him reeling back.

So the Avvar was weak against lightning, eh? U’Din could work with that.

The blond blurred a few feet away from the Avvar and started barraging the man with electric attacks. The man had an impressive armor, but with such a convenient weakness, it didn’t take long for the blond to reduce that exponentially. He shared a look with Blackwall and, with a discreet signal, had the warrior flank the Avvar to get rid of the remaining armor. The Grey Warden did this with glee and bashed his shield against the distracted Avvar’s back. The rest of his armor fell, leaving him vulnerable.

And that was when U’Din acted without thinking.

It was like that time with the bandit leader; he was possessed by the need to take out his opponent—quick and clean. He blurred towards the Avvar, and all the while he started collecting spectral magic in his left arm—only, he had forgotten one important detail.

He had no left arm. But U’Din realized this too late.

Without a hand to help manifest the spirit sword, the spectral magic collected at the base of his elbow and started forming a sphere made of pure energy. It swelled so largely that it made U’Din fear for his life—the life of his companions. He only managed to shout for them to take cover when it happened.

The sphere exploded, and what shot out was magic—pure, white magic that engulfed the area in a bright, white light. The energy caused him and the Avvar to be knocked back, skidding on the ground and hitting the wall, respectively. U’Din’s eyes had briefly glowed a bright violet, and images of crystal keeps and green courtyards flashed before him, and his eyes widened as a golden sword swung down to slice open his neck—

After the light had faded, everyone in the room was surprised to see a very dead Avvar leader—his back bent and neck twisted in a way that wasn’t _physically_ possible—and a dazed-looking U’Din sitting up from the ground.

“ _Inquisitor_!”

He looked up to see his companions surrounding him, looking at him with wide eyes and concerned frowns. Blackwall had knelt down to help him stand up, and he thanked the warrior.

“What the frig was _that_?!” Sera exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “What was that _thing_ you did?! I thought you were going to blow us all up!”

“That was a very dangerous spell, whatever that was. I could—I could _feel_ the magic pouring in the sphere and knew that it was going to end badly.” Dorian said gravely, but he didn’t sound _too_ angry. He was mostly shocked by what happened. He gave U’Din a concerned look and asked, “Are you all right, Herald?”

“Huh? O-Oh, um— _fuck!_ ” The blond mage hissed when he moved and felt a stinging pain on his back. He touched his back with his right hand and drew it back almost immediately when he grazed damaged skin. When he looked down at his hand, there was blood on it.

“Oh _shite_! You’re injured again!” Sera exclaimed, going around to inspect his back. She winced when she saw the abrasions and burn marks on his upper back. The cloth had ripped when he skidded across the floor, as well as his skin.

U’Din tried not to think about what _that_ looked like.

Dorian also went around to inspect the wounds, and he too winced. “Ooh, not pretty. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable too. Do you know any healing spells? I’m afraid it’s not my forte.”

“It’s—It’s okay. I can handle it till we make it back to camp.” U’Din dismissed, wincing a bit. He looked at his companions and asked, “Are _you_ guys all right?”

“Us? You’re asking _us_ if we’re all right?!” Sera looked about ready to throttle him. “You’re the injured one here, you turd bucket! I know we had to kill the stupid Avvar but you didn’t have to do such a stupid, shitty thing!”

U’Din blinked. The Avvar. He looked around for him and asked, “Where—“

“Over there.” Blackwall pointed at a prone body lying at the base of the stairs. “Died from a broken neck and spine, I bet. No way he could have survived such a harsh blow—especially since we got rid of his armor.”

The blond nodded. He looked over at the man’s corpse, then down at his stump of an arm. He bit his lip as he thought about how _reckless_ he had been—what possessed him to use his spirit sword? How could he have forgotten that he didn’t have it anymore? He could have endangered everyone! He could have _killed_ his companions! He shuddered. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever did that by accident.

However—

He looked down at his left arm again and lifted the appendage once. The knot at the end had burnt up, and the bandage around his arm had fallen. Instead of seeing ashen, corrupted skin left by the Anchor, he was surprised to see that the base of the arm was white. An effect of the spectral magic he used?

 _‘At least I still have the ability,’_ He thought idly, though he wished he could have found out in a less dangerous way.

But as much as U’Din wanted to find out more about what happened, he realized that their mission still wasn’t over. The Avvar was dead, and now they had one last thing to do.

“Where are our soldiers?” He asked his companions.

“Right in that room over there. It’s locked, but I found a key on the bastard. This should be able to open it.” Blackwall said, holding up a large key. Sera hopped over to him and took it.

“Well, let’s get them out, then? They’re probably starving—I know I am!” She didn’t wait for her companions to answer; she ran over to the room on the left where the soldiers were being kept. Blackwall followed her, just in case the key didn’t work. He’d be more than happy to bash the door down instead.

“Are you _sure_ you’re all right?” Dorian asked him, staying near in case he needed someone to steady him. “That was _really_ dangerous, I’ll have you know. Collecting that much pure magic—it could have _killed_ you.”

“I know.” U’Din accepted quietly, looking as ashamed as he should. He rubbed the base of his left arm, and he paused a bit when he realized that it was smooth and hard. Kind of like marble. That... was weird. “Nothing bad happened to you guys though, right? I’m really sorry for attempting such a thing; I dunno what came over me.”

“We hid behind the pillars in time. We didn’t know what could have happened if the light hit us, but,” Dorian looked around and pursed his lips into a thin line.

“What is it?” U’Din asked, feeling a bit of dread.

“It’s just—there were still some Avvar around when you released that spell. And the light hit them and, well,” Dorian inclined his head to the side. “See for yourself.”

U’Din gulped and looked around, and his eyes widened by what he saw: bodies of Avvar, frozen, _petrified_. Almost like they were turned into stone.

He gulped and shuddered. He pondered on what could have happened to his companions if they were hit by the light, but before he could think much about it, a soft hoot made him look up. Shivehn perched on one of the beams, looking down at U’Din with unblinking eyes.

The soldiers were released, and U’Din was forced to break his gaze from the owl’s.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe it was _that_ easy.” Sera grouched, swinging her legs around the horse she was riding. When it neighed in disapproval, she stopped and patted its neck in apology. “Oh, sorry about that, horsey. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah—that Avvar leader thing! Hand of Cock whatever! We went all the way to the friggin’ _swamp_ just to break his neck! _Piss_!”

“I would have worded it more articulately than that, but,” Dorian began from the other side of a pulled wagon where he too was riding a horse. He frowned and shook his head, “I’ll admit, I was expecting a bit more—I don’t know, difficulty? And it’s much more frustrating since we _apparently_ defeated him so quickly because of an _accident_.”

“Frustrating? I thought it was pretty hilarious.” Blackwall made his horse trot a bit faster so that he’d be in-step with Sera’s horse. It was hidden behind his beard, but the way his eyes crinkled at the side showed that he was smiling. “Except for the whole _we could’ve died and turned into stone_ issue, of course. But we should be thankful, regardless.”

“Thankful?” Dorian raised a well-groomed brow at the warrior. “And what do I have to be thankful for?”

“Oh, I dunno, that we managed to save the imprisoned soldiers before they were beheaded? That we defeated the Avvar leader’s spoiled brat of a son with hardly any casualties?” Blackwall brought up his hand and started counting on his fingers. “Or—and I’m sure you’ll like this—that we’re no longer surrounded by mud, humidity, undead and—I forgot to mention— _mud_.”

“...I’m not sure I like admitting that you’re right.” The dark-skinned mage pouted slightly. He turned to the butt of the wagon and said, “Inquisitor, friend, would you be so kind as to tell ser Blackwall that I don’t like admitting that someone other than me is right?”

U’Din had been staring into space when Dorian called out to him. He blinked and poked his head out of the tent flap. “Tell who what now?”

“Ser Blackwall. Not admitting that he’s right.”

“Ah. Wait. Why in the World would I do that? Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“Ah, I can. But you see, that doesn’t mean that I will. And I refuse.” Dorian replied, sounding much too pleased with himself. He ignored Blackwall rolling his eyes at him as he retorted, “So there you have it. You’re right, but I’m not going to acknowledge that fact.”

“Sure, Dorian.” The warrior indulged, though just barely. “Whatever you say.”

“Hey, Droopy! I didn’t know you were awake!” Sera said, pulling the reins on her horse so that she could move closer to the wagon he was riding in.

“I was for quite a while now. Couldn’t sleep _._ ” He admitted. Too much on his mind for him to sleep. And too many dreams.

“What’s wrong, then? Is it your injuries? I think we bandaged them up pretty good.” The archer asked with a frown.

“No, not entirely. And the bandages are holding up well, don’t worry.”

“You sure, Droopy?”

“Yes, I’m sure. No need to trouble yourself about it.” U’Din smiled. When the archer’s frown didn’t ease, he added good-naturedly, “Besides, you guys are so loud that it would be nearly impossible for me to stay asleep anyway. So I don’t think I should bother.”

“Sorry about that, Inquisitor.” Blackwall apologized, though he looked amused.

“What are you on about? We weren’t _that_ loud.” Sera exclaimed indignantly.

“I’m somewhat of a light sleeper. If someone’s having a conversation near me while I sleep, it’ll be enough to wake me up. So no chance of me sleeping with you guys around.” He answered. When she merely harrumphed and muttered something about _sassy elfy-elves_ , he leaned over the edge of the wagon and asked his own question, “What were you guys talking about, anyway? I didn’t catch that part.”

“Oh, I was just complaining about the Avvar leader thingie. And how much of a _disappointment_ that fight was!” Sera waved a hand in the air to emphasize how let-down she was. “I mean, we traded a few blows, yeah, but you did that blue flying thing and went behind him. Then you _exploded_ , knocked both of you away from each other, and then he died from a broken neck. A broken neck, _really_?!”

“And spine.”

“Yeah! It was a real let-down, you know?”

“Hm, now that you mentioned it, the fight _was_ pretty anti-climactic.”

“That too!”

U’Din’s good mood left at the reminder of the fight, and he winced visibly. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his companions apologetically. “I—I’m sorry about that, by the way. I shouldn’t have attempted something so dangerous like that.”

“Sorry about what? _Exploding_?” The blond archer questioned. Then she looked enlightened. “ _Oh_. And I thought you finally developed a sense of humor! That would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so—I dunno— _disappointed_ at how fast that fight went!”

“And that we could have turned into stone like the other Avvar?”

Sera froze for a moment before nodding shakily. “Y-Yeah. That, too. And Droopy got hurt again! Nothing funny about _that._ So no, not laughing.”

“Remind me again, Inquisitor—what exactly _happened_ in that fight?” Blackwall requested from beside her. “If you don’t mind explaining it, that is.”

U’Din sighed and cradled his cheek in his hand, looking upset. Or, at least, that’s what he attempted to look like. To his companions, he was pouting. But none of them knew the weight of what he did, exactly. Dorian was the only person to really know just how _awful_ it would have been if they had been exposed to the light.

For some reason, his magic turned the remaining Avvar into stone. Why? He hadn’t been able to do that before!

“I don’t really know how else I can explain it.” The blond said, not meeting his companions’ eyes. “I already told you that I briefly forgot I had lost my left arm, and that I attempted to use my spirit sword. I just—I’m so _sorry_. That could have gone _very badly_ , and I shouldn’t have let my emotions take control of me.”

“I’m curious about the kind of magic you used back there, though. I’ve never seen someone attempt to permanently turn someone into stone, but I _have_ read about such spells. The problem is, they’re usually very hard to cast. And yet, all you had to do was collect energy in your hand! Remarkable!” Dorian sounded positively intrigued, and U’Din had to wonder if the dark-skinned mage realized that he could have _died_ if he had been exposed to that light. He turned to U’Din and asked, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do a bit of experimenting with that magic, do you?”

“No, _nuh-uh_ , Droopy’s doing no stone-turning magic thing!”

“And you have complete control over the Inquisitor’s actions?”

“W-Well, no, but we’re friends! And friends stop friends from doing stupid shite. But if he _is_ going to do that freaky magic, he’d better do it far, far away from me as possible—“

“That will probably be more of a benefit than anything else, really.”

“Watch it, Dorian—I like you, but keep talking and you’ll find hundreds of arrows up your arse!”

“I’m still trying to decide whether that’s a threat or not.”

“Maker’s hairy _ball sack_ , please stop talking, you two.”

U’Din sighed and discreetly retreated back into the wagon while his companions busied themselves by bantering. He could have easily joined, but the blond wasn’t in the mood for such light-hearted conversations.

He lost his temper. Again. And he put the lives of his companions at risk. _Again_. If Solas had been around when it happened, he was _sure_ that the man would have berated him for such a careless act—also, _again_.

He didn’t know what came over him; he just heard the cries of the captured Inquisition soldiers and lost it. He saw _red_ , and he felt a desperate need to avenge the soldiers—to redeem himself. It made him think of all the times he got angry and upset, and he shuddered—that horrible vengeful feeling was always a constant, but it was the first time that U’Din turned people into stone.

He thought about that time he got angry at Cassandra and knocked her back with his magic—could he have turned _her_ into stone? He would have run for the hills if that had happened!

The wagon bumped a bit, and suddenly the journey felt more stable—like they were walking on stone. He looked out of the wagon and realized that they were crossing the stone bridge that led to Skyhold. They were here already.

“’Bout time we got back! I’m _starving_!” Sera cheered, popping the joints in her shoulders as she stretched.

“You’re _always_ starving. Good grief, woman, do you have an _abyss_ for a stomach?”

“Not my fault! If we were able to use these horses back in that stupid mire, I wouldn’t be so tired and hungry! Why _couldn’t_ we use these things back there, anyway?”

“I’d wager it’s the terrain. Marshy ground would sink quickly under the weight of a horse and a rider. And considering the delicateness of our mission, I suppose the scouts opted not to take any of our mounts into the region.”

“Ugh, _piss_. Well, anyway— _Droopy_! What say you an’ me get started on that pie prank, yeah? I bet we can take _loads_ of people by surprise!”

“Now don’t go dragging the Inquisitor into your shenanigans, Sera. He has a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Bah, yer no fun.”

The gates of Skyhold opened to greet them back to the keep. A few soldiers went to the back of the wagon to help U’Din down, and he sheepishly thanked them for the assistance. They saluted and told them that it was _no_ trouble—especially compared to the trouble he went through to free them from the Avvar.

“I still can’t believe he came to save us.” One of the soldiers whispered, sounding awe-struck.

“How many times do I have to tell you that he would never leave us? The Herald cares!”

“Yes, but, I didn’t think _he’d_ free us himself.”

“Lucky bunch, we are. To have an Inquisitor like that.”

“Stop gossiping, you two! Help the others out of that other wagon!”

U’Din watched as they went towards the other wagon that housed the captured soldiers that sustained injuries. The blond had asked why they couldn’t just share _one_ wagon, but the soldiers themselves insisted that he should have one for himself. It was a bit much, but U’Din welcomed the privacy a personal wagon offered.

He was just glad that they came back with the soldiers _at all_. Knowing that he had a hand in helping them survive—it felt good. He did something good, and that was... _good_. Very good.

“You all right, friend? Can you walk?” Dorian appeared next to him, horseless. He and the rest of his companions had let a few stable boys handle the horses shortly after arriving.

The Inquisitor shook his head and smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not that hurt. My back’s kinda itchy, though; I might have to clean the wounds properly later.”

“Yes. The ’Mire isn’t a  _particularly_  clean place. I actually think we should do that right now, lest we risk you getting an infection. And wouldn’t _that_  be an awful way to die for our great Inquisitor?”

U’Din smiled sadly and shrugged. “It wouldn’t really matter, though. I have this rare condition where I can’t benefit from healing potions or spells the way normal people do. Once I get hurt, the disease festers till it eventually consumes the affected body part. I’ll probably sooner die from _that_  than from fighting Corypheus, I think.” He tried forcing a laugh to make light of what he said, but all he really did was make himself feel awful. 

He looked down at his right hand and noticed that a bit of black residue from his wound was seeping through the bandages—a clear indication that his wounds were starting to spread again. He wanted to laugh, realizing that he probably jinxed himself just then. Oh, well.

The dark-skinned mage frowned at him disapprovingly. “I would ask you not to be so negative, Inquisitor. Not just because that we need you alive to defeat that megalomaniac, but because everyone deserves a chance to live their life to the fullest. You shouldn’t be quick to give up hope.”

“You sound like Solas.” U’Din snorted, though he meant nothing wrong about what he said. In fact, the reminder of the hedge mage even made him feel a little better. He smiled; it would be really great to see him again after spending such a grueling time in the depressing swamps. Perhaps he could hang out with Solas after reporting back to his advisors.

“I’m not sure whether to consider that an insult or not.” Dorian teased lightly, but he quickly went back to being serious. “I _mean_  it, though. Taking care of yourself should be a priority, Inquisitor. How do you usually combat this illness of yours? I’ve only heard from Josephine that there isn’t a known cure for it—let alone knowledge on what it even _is_.”

“My Keeper made me a salve that stops the corruption from spreading. It doesn’t cure it; only delays the inevitable. I have no idea how to make it myself, though.”

“Wait, _what_? You don’t know how to _make_  it? The one thing that stops... whatever _that_ is? So what have you been doing all this time?”

“...Nothing?”

“... _Nothing_.”

“Y-Yeah. Nothing.”

“Even though this sickness of yours can eventually lead to your _death_? You’re still doing nothing about it?” Dorian asked incredulously, and the resigned scowl on the blond's face made him upset. “This is a very serious matter, Inquisitor! It makes me wonder how you can be so nonchalant about it! Tell me, do you require assistance for this? I’m no healer, but perhaps with the joint effort of Vivienne, Solas and I, we'd be able to figure _something_  out. And why isn’t the Inquisition doing _anything_  about this?!”

“Er, last I heard, Josephine sent word to some Orlesian colleges or something like that. I didn’t really pay attention.”

“Didn’t pay attention, he says! Are you _mad_?”

“Dorian, please, it’s not—”

_“Inquisitor!”_

U’Din turned to see a scout running towards him. He blinked as the man skidded to a stop in front of him, and he bent down to catch his breath.

“Inquisitor! Ser! Did you—the message—we sent—“ He paused and bent over even more, panting. He looked like he had just come from one of Cullen’s practice sessions. Or had been the unfortunate sparring partner of a certain Seeker.

“Whoa there, good man, there’s no rush. The Inquisitor’s not going anywhere.” Dorian chuckled good-naturedly, though he gave the blond a meaningful look. “Unless, of course, he has _another_ mission already?”

U’Din looked queasy as he turned towards the scout. “Is there trouble? If I need to set out on another mission, I might need a few minutes to—“

“Oh no, ser! It’s not a mission! It’s—“ He paused as he stood up properly. The scout saluted before continuing. “Ser! The forward scouts have informed Commander Cullen that you’d be arriving soon. But I was tasked by Lady Nightingale to ask if you’ve received the missive they had sent a few days prior.”

U’Din blinked. “Missive? What missive? We didn’t get a missive.”

The scout looked pale. “Y—You didn’t, ser? But we sent a raven a few days ago—“

“Ah, we might have been on our way back by that time, Inquisitor.” Dorian interjected, turning to U’Din. “We finished the mission quite quickly, yes? And the issue with the apostate didn’t take that long either. I doubt we could have received—much less _read_ —any missives sent to us at that time.”

“That _does_ make sense. We weren’t able to use horses until we were out of the region, and we _did_ have injured soldiers with us. So it did take us a while to get back.” U’Din conceded, nodding to himself. He turned to the scout and asked, “What was in this missive? Had it been about our mission in the ‘Mire?”

“I— _actually_ , it’s not about the mission at all. It’s just... we have guests. _Ser_.”

“And... that’s good?” U’Din replied unsurely. “But the Inquisition gets guests all the time though, right? Why would Lady Leliana find it necessary to send me a message about _that_? And all the way in the Fallow Mire, too.”

“Perhaps these guests are different.” Dorian offered. U’Din just shrugged at him.

“Maybe. But I don’t see why _I_ have to be informed personally because—“

“ _Vhenan!_ ”

The blond froze. That _voice_. He _knew_ that voice. But before he could properly react, he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. He barely registered Dorian staring at whomever tackled him when his face was squashed against someone’s chest.

“Wha—“ He tried pushing away from the assaulter, and he angled his head away so he could shout properly, “Wh- _What the fuck?!_ What’s going on?! Who—“

“Oh, I had been so _worried_ about you!” The stranger squeezed him, causing him to choke. There was a lot of shaking involved, and U’Din was worried he was going to lose his breakfast on the man’s shirt. “When we heard about what happened at Haven, we were distraught! And we came here as fast as we could. We weren’t able to catch you before you left, but now you’re _here_ and we could all go back home, vhenan!”

U’Din’s eyes widened. _Vhenan_. Only one person _ever_ called him that. He pushed away from the man far enough to see the person’s face. His jaw dropped when familiar green eyes looked into his own violet ones.

“Ma— _Mahanon_?” He whispered.

The other elf grinned and nodded his head. “Yes! I’m here! Surprised to see me?”

U’Din couldn’t reply—he was too busy being utterly _shocked_ to even form a coherent thought in his head. But the sound of footsteps drew his attention away from the wildly grinning redhead, and he turned to see _another_ redhead—but this one instilled fear and apprehension instead of just shock.

“E-Ellana.” He managed. After a brief mental war with himself, he inclined his head towards her in respect. “I—Hello.”

“U’Din.” She greeted quietly. And maybe a bit unsurely. There was tension in the air as she continued, “You seem surprised to see us. I thought the shems sent word of our arrival.”

“I—I didn’t receive the message they sent. We were on our way back when, um,” He shared a look with Dorian who was, surprisingly, still there to witness everything. He ignored the man’s questioning gaze as he turned back to the First. “So, uh, what—what are you two... doing here?”

Ellana didn’t answer him immediately, opting to look him over. She frowned at the state of his clothes—or _armor_ , rather, and how tattered they were. They were informed that he had been sent to the Mire to fight some Avvar to save a few soldiers that were held hostage, and she and Mahanon were worried about what could happen to him. If he had sustained more injuries, then—

Her eyes landed on his left side, and she froze. The more she looked at it, the wider her eyes got. Her green eyes shifted to meet his confused, still dazed violet ones.

“U’Din.” Ellana began carefully, seemingly holding back a violent reaction. She breathed through her nose and continued, “What— _What_ happened to your left arm?”

“Left arm? What do you mean Ella—“ Mahanon’s smile froze on his face when he turned to look at U’Din’s left arm—or _lack_ of one, thereof. As the seconds passed, he started looking progressively _less_ happy and more horrified. He grabbed onto U’Din’s shoulders and started shaking him again—this time, from fear.

“ _U’Din!_ Your left arm! It’s—It’s gone! Why the fuck is it gone?!” Mahanon’s voice reached a pitch U’Din had been sure he shouldn’t have been able to reach anymore. “What happened to it?! Who—You— _What the fuck happened to your arm_?!”

U’Din winced. “I—“

_“Inquisitor!”_

The blond turned and was horrified to see his advisors and his other companions approaching. Cassandra was the first to reach him, and she said, “Inquisitor, you have arrived. I assume that you received our message regarding our gue—“

Cassandra had to cut herself off because she was suddenly evading a golden sword from decapitating her head. Everyone gasped and stared at the seething Dalish hunter who was glaring at everyone in pure hatred.

“What the frig?! What was that for?!” Sera balked, readying her bow as the other companions prepared themselves to engage if necessary.

Cassandra glared back at Mahanon and spat, “ _What is the meaning of_ —“

U’Din’s eyes widened when Mahanon didn’t even allow her to finish her sentence before swinging his sword again. He cried out in panic and reached out with his hand to cast a mild ice spell to keep him frozen. It was strong enough to keep him in place, but weak enough to allow him to turn his head at him.

“Let—Let me _go_ , U’Din! I’m going to tear these fucking shems apart!” He barked out, taking a moment to glare at the Inquisition soldiers who surrounded him when he made himself a threat.

U’Din saw this and felt panic. He waved a hand frantically in the air as he approached the soldiers, “Wait, wait! Don’t hurt him! Please! He was just—“

“Inquisitor, he attempted an attack on Cassandra!” Cullen sounded incredulous as he kept his sword out. “You can’t just expect us to let him get away with it!”

“P-Please, I know it looks horrible but—“ U’Din looked around and saw many bystanders curiously watching the scene. He swore under his breath and then asked, in a quieter voice, “C-Can we take this somewhere more private? Please? We’re being watched, Commander.”

“I agree with the Inquisitor.” Vivienne stepped forward, pausing to look at U’Din before continuing, “Despite how awful the situation turned out, solving it out _here_ would be a dreadful decision. Let us seek the privacy of four walls, shall we?”

Cullen looked like he was going to protest and suggest that they take care of the situation _now_ , but a hand on his shoulder discouraged him from saying anything. He shared a look with Leliana, and he reluctantly sheathed his sword.

The Spymaster turned to U’Din with a kinder look. “Very well, Inquisitor. Let’s have this discussion elsewhere. It would be kinder to you and our... _guests_.” She sent a quick glare towards the frozen Mahanon before turning away to speak with the other advisors. U’Din ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and then jumped when he heard a voice call out to him.

“U’Din.” Solas appeared beside him, looking blandly polite as usual. But his eyes showed that he was also concerned, and U’Din appreciated that. He looked towards Mahanon briefly and asked, “Are you all right?”

The blond pondered the question for a moment. He glanced briefly in Ellana’s direction, and he noticed that she was still looking at where his left arm should be. Mahanon was struggling from his binds, and he was cursing quite colorfully in Elvhen. U’Din looked back at Solas and sighed, shaking his head morosely.

He _had_ been all right. But now—now he just wanted to look for a tree to hide in and never come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that was an awful way to end this chapter. :)) Sorry, but I had to pace the events so that you guys won't be overloaded. And it'll give you guys time to think about what's been revealed in this chapter! Aren't I a nice person? :P Looool.
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be REALLY frustrating, I bet, but fortunately, it'll (hopefully) have Solas and U'Din interaction! Yey! :3 I'm sure you guys are looking forward to some action, finally, after 26 chapters of absolutely NOTHING HAPPENING. Ugh. So sorry about that, guys. But I like plot so :))
> 
> Thanks so much to those who've read, commented and given kudos! I really, REALLY appreciate you guys taking the time to do those things ;____; I'll admit that my motivation is directly proportional to people's interest in this fic :)) I mean, I could just write this and just keep it to myself, but as long as people continue to express how much they like it, I'll keep updating. Lol so please keep supporting omg. See you guys next update 8D


	26. Two Steps Back, One Step Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take note that this chapter involves a bit of public reproving. If any form of reprimanding makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you read at your own risk. But other than that, please enjoy this update. I'm sure you've all been anticipating this! :)
> 
> Note: Not Beta'd. Any and all mistakes will be corrected later on.

_He watched as everything went up in flames; burnt bark from trees and shards of crystal crashing down on the ground saturated in the blood of innocents. His heart panged painfully in his chest as he watched survivors flee, screaming in fear while trying to escape a tragic fate of forced servitude._

_The small girl in his arms shivered and sobbed, clinging on to him like he was a lifeline. He embraced her, whispering consoling words that he hoped would distract her from the cries of death and anguish—both from the running villagers and from himself._

_When the flames died out and the blackened earth quieted, he swore to himself that he would no longer be a part of this gruesome campaign. He would sooner die._

 

* * *

 

U’Din stood uncomfortably in the War Room, looking between his companions and his... guests. Everyone was scarily quiet, making the tension in the room quite thick. It was a miracle that U’Din wasn’t choking on it. The _glaring_ on both sides didn’t help with his nerves either. It made him wanna puke. Not even Cole’s soothing whispers at the back of his head could make him stop being bothered by it.

He felt Cole become sad at the admission, and he sent the spirit reassuring and grateful vibes in his head. _Another_ presence, a Big and Noisy one, also tried to comfort him, but he ignored that part of himself for now.

“Well. _This_ is an awfully nice reunion, isn’t it?” Varric began as an attempt to ease the tension in the room. He looked at U’Din and grinned a little. “Willow hadn’t even had a chance to _change_ into Inquisitor mode when everything decided to go to shit. Hah! You really _can’t_ catch a break, can you Willow?”

“You will address him _properly_ , Varric. He is the _Inquisitor_.” Cassandra briefly transferred her glare towards the dwarf standing at the corner of the table, and she sneered a little when he just shrugged.

“Oh, but of course. His _Inquisitorialness_ , the amazing lord Herald with the perfect, silky, golden hair. How could I forget?”

“Feh! Droopy’s Droopy. He doesn’t care much about stupid noble shite like that. Right, Droopy?”

“Ah, speaking for the Inquisitor _again_ , Sera? You should sign up as his official spokesperson! He’d attract a _lovely_ following, I bet—all consisting of naysayers, protestors fighting for public decency and passionate advocates of personal hygiene. Yes. I could _definitely_ see it now. I think we may have found your calling.”

“Know what _I_ see, Dorian? Arrows. Arse. _On fire_.”

“Hmm, I’m confused—are the _arrows_ on fire, or the ass? I can’t really tell.”

“ _Bull_ —“

“That was pretty clever, though. Arse on fire. _Arson fire_. Though I doubt you did that on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?”

“Hm, hm, how I simply _love_ being right.”

“Can we _please_ get back to the matter at hand? We’ve no time for senseless drivel.” Cullen requested irritably, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“ _Geez_ , calm down, Curly. We were only trying to get things going, you know? Since all we’re doing is pretty much glaring at each other until someone started to melt. Though the Seeker’s probably the only one who could do that—”

“ _Varric_.”

“Hey, I’m just saying!”

“ _Enough_!”

U’Din sighed. He had a feeling that all meetings with all his companions present would always end up like this. Though he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t appreciate their presence; he didn’t know what he’d do if it was just him, the advisors and his clan members. Possibly Cassandra too, since she _had_ been almost beheaded by Mahanon. U’Din frowned, wondering what could happen to his fellow clansman after that slight.

He twitched a little when his back started to burn, and he knew it was his _condition_ rearing its ugly head again. He wanted to change his bandages (and also preferably _bathe_ ) so bad, but the situation at hand took precedence. Still, that didn’t stop him from shifting uncomfortably and showing how much he wanted to get away from there.

The feeling doubled when Mahanon growled, “You have the gall to make _jokes_ at a time like this? Are you trying to mock us? Show us respect!”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be _demanding_ any respect at the moment, ser Mahanon. After all, you _did_ just attack one of the most important members of the Inquisition this morning.” Josephine answered, narrowing her eyes slightly at him. “We suggest that you _calm yourself_ , for any attempt at discussion would be meaningless without leveled heads.”

“ _Halla shit_. How did you expect me to react? Seeing U’Din without an—an—“ He took one look at U’Din’s left side and snarled, “You _will_ answer for this! Do you hear me? We’re going to make you pay for—“

“Mahanon. Control yourself.” Ellana gritted out warningly, ignoring her brother’s indignant glare. She turned to U’Din, looking much calmer, but a tad wary. “When _did_ you lose your arm, anyway? And how?”

He was surprised that Ellana had spoken to him so soon, and it showed. He looked up at his companions in the Inquisition and hesitated, wondering if he was allowed to tell her the exact truth. At the same time, he felt _compelled_ to. She was the First—he the Second. He had to answer her, right?

A few moments later, he made a decision. He swallowed and said, “I... lost it at Haven. After barely surviving the avalanche. As for how—I’m not sure I can tell you.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him. “Why not? It was _your_ arm, was it not?”

U’Din swallowed again. “W-Well. It had something to do with the mark—“

“The mark that allows you to close rifts, you mean?”

“Yes. Every time I used it, I...” He trailed off, not completely sure if he was allowed to reveal that information. He looked towards his advisors, silently asking.

Leliana’s eyes softened upon meeting his, and she gave a small nod. He nodded back shakily.

“Every time I used the mark, it would become... corrupt. We theorized that my magic was somehow causing the change. Eventually, my arm succumbed to the corruption after I had used too much magic and... it turned to ash and fell off.”

Everyone had become pensive at the reminder of U’Din’s arm. The advisors had convened one day regarding it and had asked Solas about his findings. The hedge mage said that the magic done to the arm was irreversible; and even if it wasn’t, it would most likely succumb to another corruption: U’Din’s sickness. For everyone else, they felt slightly responsible for the Inquisitor’s loss and thought of ways that they could have prevented such misfortune.

Eventually, it had been Ellana’s soft snort that pulled everyone back into reality.

“’Figures it would be something _you_ had caused. Does that mean you can no longer close those tears in the Fade?”

“...I still can. The magic of the mark lingered in the air even after my arm fell apart, and it transferred to my ocarina.” U’Din reached into his shirt and pulled out the object, and the two elves were surprised to see it subtly glowing an eerie green. “I can use this to close the rifts instead.”

“It transferred to _that_ thing?” Ellana sounded dubious, but the eerie glow was proof that U’Din hadn’t lied. “Why?”

The Inquisitor shrugged. “I have no idea. All we could guess is that it’s actually some type of conduit, but none of us are exactly sure.”

“We should be thankful that you still have it, then. Even if you _did_ lose your arm because of it.” Mahanon commented bitterly, though sounded _much_ calmer when speaking to him.

The blond smiled sadly. “Yeah, but it would have been more convenient to have the Anchor in my hand. I shouldn’t have agitated the mark by using my spectral magic. If I had been more careful, I’d—“

“At least you’re aware of how much you had messed up.” The First cut him off, crossing her arms over her chest and looking quite snide. “Saves us the trouble of having to drill that into your skull.”

U’Din didn’t react to her comment, even when the others were gaping and glaring daggers at her. Instead he just looked down and scowled, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Now see _here_ ,” Cassandra began, slamming her palms on the table. “You have no right to talk to the Inquisitor in such a way! What made you think that you—“

“To _you_ , he is the Inquisitor. To me, he’s a member of my clan, as well as the Second. Since I am the First, it is _my_ duty to tell him where he erred, and to berate him when he fails to fulfill _his_ duty to the clan. Which. He. Has. _Done_.”

“ _Inquisitor_. Are you going to let her speak to you like that?!” Cassandra turned her gaze on U’Din, expecting the blond to start defending himself like he _should_.

But she was shocked to see a resigned, hollow stare instead of indignant, narrowed eyes. He briefly shifted his gaze towards Ellana before turning his eyes back down, looking very much defeated.

“I... know I messed up.” He admitted quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Cassandra blanched. “ _Inquisitor_!”

“Shit. I knew it.” Varric muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning away. Now that he realized what was going on, it hurt to watch. It felt almost wrong to do so, anyway.

“You should be sorry, U’Din. Do you have any idea how worried we had all been when you didn’t come back? We had heard about the explosion at the Conclave and feared that we lost you because you _never_ sent a message back.” Ellana rounded on U’Din fully, glaring at him.

He flinched a little at the accusation, taking two steps back, but this time he attempted to explain himself, “I’m sorry. I’m _really_ sorry about that, Ellana. I didn’t—at the time it hadn’t been _possible_. So many things were happening the first few months, and I—“

“And what about _after_ that? What then?”

“I—I didn’t think it was wise to let anyone know where my clan was. Or that I even _had_ one. My station was still new, and while I had allies, there were those who thought I was a heathen or a dangerous usurper. If _anyone_ had found out about you and the rest of the clan, they might have—“

“Excuses, excuses. That’s all you’re ever good at, U’Din. _Making excuses_.” Ellana cut him off harshly, scoffing. “But you know what? That’s not enough. The Keeper might be gullible enough to accept _that_ from you, but that’s not gonna work with me, _deadweight_.”

“I already said I was _sorry_ , Ellana. What more could I possibly tell you?”

“I don’t know, U’Din. What _can_ you tell me?” The First asked, shrugging disinterestedly. “Since you had been so sure of yourself when you accepted being the _Herald of Andraste_ and then the _Inquisitor_ , I would have pegged you as someone who knew _exactly_ what to say.”

“Hey, _Bitchy_! What the _frig_ is your problem?!” Sera raised a clenched fist and seemed like she was going to jump over the table to punch her, but Iron Bull kept her back. “Let _go_ of me, Bull! Droopy’s—“

“You’re just going to make it _worse_.” The qunari said quietly, _harshly_.

“So I’m just going to let her say all those mean things, then?! Just let him get hurt? What kind of friends would we be if we let that happen?!”

“As strange as it sounds, I find myself agreeing with Sera.” Dorian stepped forward and leveled the Dalish mage a stern glare. “Now, I don’t know exactly what your problem is with our Inquisitor, but he does not deserve to be attacked in such a way. And since I doubt you have a _legitimate reason_ for doing so, I suggest you stop it right now.”

“Yeah! You tell ‘er, Dorian!” Sera whooped on the sides.

Ellana barely even glanced in the Tevinter’s direction before snorting. “Relying on others, are you, U’Din? Typical. You could never handle a good reprimanding, even if you deserve it. _Wimp_.”

The blond tensed, and now, _finally_ , he was starting to show a little frustration. But again he said nothing, opting to just glare helplessly at the floor.

Mahanon mirrored the hurt look on U’Din’s face at hearing the insult, and he glared at his sister. He came in between them and said, “Ellana, stop that right now. You _may_ have a point, but that doesn’t mean you can just insult him like that.” His glare intensified when the woman just raised a brow at him, as if to say _‘can’t I?’_ “Besides, he was cursed with that stupid mark; he didn’t have much of a choice back then. You should be angrier at the fact that this _Inquisition_ didn’t make sure that he never got injured like they promised us!”

The rest of the Inner Circle bristled at the accusation, but before any of them could defend themselves, Ellana had already made a retort, “So what, I should just go easy on him? Like you and the Keeper? He obviously let himself be bullied into the role! He never had the guts to say no to _anything_ , and look at where that got him! Injured! _Armless_!”

“Again, you’re being unfair, Ellana. U’Din had _no_ way of controlling that from happening. It’s the Inquisition’s fault—“

“ _Ser Mahanon_ —“

“—that he’s the way he is! Can’t you see that?”

Ellana glanced at her brother, and then at U’Din. The blond tightened his jaw as he and the First stared at each other silently, and the Inquisitor felt something within him _boil_ when the First just looked away, unrepentant.

“No. It’s not the Inquisition’s fault. He’s just _like_ that. End of story.” She crossed her arms over her chest and blew a few strands away from her face. “And isn’t that just _sad_.”

“Whose fault was _that_ , I wonder.” Varric muttered under his breath, but loud enough for the Dalish elf to hear.

“What are you talking about, dwarf?” Ellana’s lip curled as she turned to glare at Varric who just averted his gaze, not willing to explain what he meant to someone who didn’t get it.

U’Din, on the other hand, knew what Varric meant. And it made him sick to the stomach; amplified the apprehension congealing in his gut.

He desperately wanted to run away. He wanted to leave the room; hide from the concerned stares he _knew_ he was getting. He was so embarrassed, _so ashamed_ that his companions were once again faced with the old, pathetic U’Din—the one who hung his head and let himself be trampled because he was too afraid to get up and risk being pushed down again. And when Cassandra pounded her fist on the table, demanding that Ellana _show the Inquisitor respect!_ , he just wanted to tell her to save her breath and leave it be.

After all, how could he expect _Ellana_ to give him respect when he barely had any for himself?

 

* * *

 

Solas studied the Inquisitor with narrowed eyes. He had been quiet the entire time since the meeting started, and he had kept his eyes trained on U’Din the moment the discussion between him and the First (if one could still call it that) turned aggressive and personal. He had predicted the blond’s submissiveness, so seeing that was no surprise, but what he _didn’t_ expect was to see _frustration_ in U’Din’s eyes.

It made him realize one thing: U’Din _wanted_ to defend himself. He was just unwilling to actually _do_ it.

_Why?_

His eyes then shifted towards the redheaded First who was now in an argument with the Seeker, with added comments from the Commander and the Ambassador. The topic of their heated discussion didn’t matter; it didn’t have anything to do with what Solas was thinking. He wondered, curiously, what could have happened between the First and the Second that inculcated such profound resignation in the latter. The social dynamic between the two seemed mature, stable—like it had been that way for a long time. There was a _history_ there, he was sure. It wasn’t any of his business, he knew, but anything that was even _slightly_ related to U’Din was of interest to Solas.

 _That_ , and the ancient elf wanted answers before attempting to _crush_ the First under the force of the Fade. And speaking of _crush_ —

Solas’ eyes landed on Mahanon next. The man was beside U’Din, looking almost as sad as the blond was. From the way he stood, it was obvious to Solas that he wanted to console U’Din, but he couldn’t with so many people present. How would he console him, if they were the only ones in the room? Would he hold him? Embrace him? Run a hand through that golden hair while whispering saccharine, trite words like _I’m here_ or even _vhenan_?

Vhenan _._ My heart. That’s what he called U’Din. Were they involved, then? Solas strangely wanted to know. He would be incredibly surprised if they were—that, and perhaps a tiny bit disappointed. From what he had seen of Mahanon so far, Solas thought that U’Din could have had someone better, someone worthy of him.

 _Like you?_ A traitorous voice sneered in his head. He sneered right back at it, unrepentant.

His musings were put to an end when U’Din moved in his peripheral. He shifted his gaze back to U’Din, finding him still averting his eyes from everyone in shame. But what had attracted Solas’ attention was U’Din’s shoulders moving up and down every now and then. He had noticed it at the beginning, subtle and almost imperceptible, but now U’Din wasn’t even hiding it. When the blond’s hand reached to tug at the back of his shirt, Solas knew something had to be wrong.

“Inquisitor.” He finally spoke, and his voice was loud enough to interrupt the current argument. “Are you all right? You’ve been favoring your back for the last few minutes.”

Whatever Solas said seemed to have moved a cog in the clockwork of Sera’s mind, and she gasped and swore, “Oh _shite_! We forgot about Droopy’s wounds!”

First there was silence. Then, chaos erupted—

“ _Wound?_ Are you saying the Inquisitor is injured?” Cullen sounded alarmed, his eyes widening as they turned towards U’Din.

Cassandra exploded at the archer. “Why would you forget to inform us something as important as this? You _know_ about his sickness!”

“Now, don’t go yelling at Sera, Cassandra. Dorian and I are _also_ at fault for forgetting as well, as much as it shames me to admit it.” Blackwall defended.

“Then why didn’t _you_ say anything, then?!”

“I’m not particularly _proud_ that I had forgotten, but we _all_ were supposed to have his wounds treated properly—until, of course, we were greeted by a surprise welcoming party. Stress on the _welcoming_.” Dorian said drily, but a glance towards U’Din showed that he regretted not remembering, especially since they had even discussed about it earlier.

“Regardless! You should have...”

While the inner circle argued on their side of the table, U’Din’s side was much more subdued. However, not less intense. Mahanon and Ellana had turned to him and started inquiring about the aforementioned wound—prior arguments momentarily forgotten.

“A wound on your back! Why didn’t you say anything?” Mahanon exclaimed. Then he looked guilty. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have embraced you so tightly. Did I hurt you?”

The question seeped a _lot_ deeper than it should, causing U’Din to wince. But the blond was able to recover quickly, shaking his head in reply. “No, don’t worry. And honestly, it slipped my mind. Sorry.”

“Did you get that wound in the Fallow Mire?” Ellana asked, tone much softer but still rather cold to his ears.

The blond bit his lip and nodded numbly. “Yeah. I got it while fighting the Avvar chief’s son.”

Ellana’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing, and she glared at the ground. “That means there’s two left, then. We _really_ have to get you back home.”

U’Din blinked. “Huh?”

She shook her head and turned to her brother. “You have the Keeper’s salve with you?”

“I only have this small jar with me right now. The rest are in the room we were given.” Mahanon replied while fishing something out of his pocket. It was a small clay jar, and U’Din saw a familiar black paste after the hunter took off the lid. “You think this is enough, U’Din? We could always get the rest.”

U’Din moved slightly to take look inside the jar, and he nodded once. “Yeah. That’s okay. But I don’t think it’s enough for the rest of me.” He said quietly, waving a hand over his body for emphasis.

“Fuck, you’re right. You still have your _other_ wounds. Right, so let’s get this on your recent wound first. Then we can go over the rest—“

“And where do you think _you’re_ going?”

Mahanon had grabbed U’Din’s arm and started making his way to the door, but stopped short at Cassandra’s biting question. He turned and glared at her, not appreciating her holding them back.

“What does it look like, _shem_? We’re going to treat U’Din’s wounds! Don’t you _want_ that?” The hunter challenged, initiating another glaring match between him and the brunette.

“You _insolent_ —“

“You are correct in assuming that the Inquisitor needs prompt treating. However,” Josephine paused. “Considering _your_ assault on one of our members is the reason why we’re gathered, I’m afraid we cannot let you leave this room. Neither of you, for that matter.”

Ellana harrumphed at being included, but Mahanon full-out raged. “ _What?_ Then how is U’Din going to put this salve on his back? You expect him to be able to do that on his own?”

“Of course not. That would be foolish.” Leliana almost scoffed. “We will be assigning one of our healers to apply the salve for him. I could escort the Inquisitor out while Cullen and the rest continue this meeting, and I’ll—“

“That won’t be necessary, Spymaster. _I_ volunteer to do it.” Solas cut the redhead off, stepping towards U’Din.

“Of _course_ you would, Chuckles.” Varric commented at the side, sounding a lot less upset than he did earlier. He shared a knowing look with Iron Bull, and the qunari just smirked and shrugged.

Leliana looked pleased. “That’s actually a good idea, Solas. You _had_ been assisting the Inquisitor with his wounds since the beginning. You’re the only one we can trust with something as sensitive as this.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Solas replied. He turned to U’Din and gave him a meaningful look. “Unless, of course, the Inquisitor refuses my help?”

U’Din had been staring at Solas dazedly since he approached, and only after the hedge mage’s eyes met his did he snap out of it. “H-Huh? Oh. Sure. But wait a minute, you’re just going to let me leave? Are we done?”

“Far from it. But your health _does_ come first, Inquisitor.” Cullen replied kindly.

The Inquisitor frowned and looked briefly in Ellana’s direction, noting that the First was watching him. He shifted and said, “But I can’t just _leave_ , can I? I don’t want to trouble anyone—“

“There’s nothing to worry about, lord U’Din. We can handle things here. In fact—“ Josephine paused and turned towards the others. “It would probably be best if only the advisors, Cassandra and our guests stay for this meeting. The others can return to their duties.”

“Sure. _Duties_.” Varric muttered, but didn’t say anything in protest.

“By your leave, then?” Solas asked, turning to the advisors. When they nodded, the others filed out of the room. Solas guided U’Din out, not saying anything when the blond just kept his head ducked.

Mahanon frowned at the way the two walked _so close_ to each other, feeling an irrational urge to come in between them. But the shems started speaking to him about his attempted _beheading_ of the Seeker, so while loathe he was to turn his back on the pair, he had shems to argue with.

As U’Din vanished through the door, the advisors looked at where he last stood—somber and concerned.

 

* * *

 

“Well, _that_ was absolutely dreadful.” Dorian began once the doors closed behind them. The necromancer turned to U’Din with a sarcastic smile. “No offense meant, Inquisitor. I’m sure your clansmen are charming when they try exceptionally hard. Like really, _really_ hard. To the point that they bleed to death from _trying very hard_.”

“Keep the sass levels down, Sparkler. I’m sure Willow gets the point.”

“Pissy, shitty, _bitchy_ , no-good, FRIGGIN’—“

“At least you weren’t here when they _arrived_. We had to endure them for a couple of days, you know.”

“And I’m very much sorry for you all.”

“—PISSBAG _BITCH FACE_!”

“Is it _really_ a good idea to insult the Inquisitor’s clansmen like that? Especially since he’s _here_?” Blackwall asked incredulously, briefly looking in the blond’s direction before glaring at Dorian.

“Ah, yes, because they’re such incredibly _nice_ people. Especially that Ellana woman. Saintly, she is.”

Blackwall frowned. “I never said they were, but the Inquisitor—“

“ _Is right here_.” Vivienne firmly cut off any attempt at continuing the conversation, rendering everyone silent with a glare. With a softer look, she turned to the quiet Inquisitor and asked, “Are you all right, my dear? You look quite lethargic.”

“It’s from his wounds. And the overall stress from... well,” Dorian paused carefully, turning to the blond. “In any case, I regret forgetting about your injuries, Inquisitor. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

“And me, too. We should have made it a priority, the Inquisitor’s wounds.” Blackwall added, frowning guiltily.

“Well, we _wouldn’t_ have forgotten if that _Mehammy_ didn’t friggin’ tackle Droopy! Bastard must have opened the wounds himself!”

“I believe his name is _Mahanon_ , Sera.”

“That’s what I said. _Mehammy_. Sounds the same, innit?”

“If _that’s_ how you say the hunter’s name, I’m curious how you’re going to say his _sister’s_ name.”

“Don’t need to say her name. She’s just _bitch_ to me.”

“Oh, Sera, I _do_ adore you sometimes.”

While the three bonded over insults, the other companions decided to focus on U’Din. Blackwall and Solas were trying to get the blond to respond to questions, while Vivienne had taken the salve from him to inspect it. Iron Bull just stood behind her, also intrigued by the salve that was supposedly the only thing that can relieve the Inquisitor’s wounds.

Vivienne frowned as she looked at the paste. “I don’t recall the salve being this dark when Solas applied it in Haven. Is this how it really looks like?”

“It’s dark. Almost black. Not exactly an inviting color.” Iron Bull observed, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a face. “Has a pretty strong smell to it, too. And not the medicinal kind.”

“You’re right. It smells quite horrid. I can’t _believe_ the Herald has to endure this.” The enchanter agreed, putting the lid back on the jar and handing it to Solas.

“Shall we head to your quarters now, Inquisitor?” Solas asked, turning to U’Din. The blond just nodded, showing that he was listening even though he chose to remain quiet.

_“Wait.”_

They all turned to see Ellana coming out of the War Room. U’Din stiffened, keeping his eyes on her as she approached, but she just ignored him.

“Well? What do _you_ want?” Sera asked rudely, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ellana ignored her as well and turned to Solas, gesturing towards the clay jar in his hands. “That salve. If you use it sparingly, you can probably cover most of his wounds with just that. He doesn’t need too much of it. Also... use a cloth when you apply it.”

Something in Solas’ brain clicked, but he maintained a passive and appropriately curious expression on his face. “Would that be a better way to apply it?”

“...Yes. You can say that.” Ellana said vaguely. With one last look directed towards U’Din—a narrowed gaze hinting that their argument earlier was _not_ over—she turned and went back in the room, closing the door behind her.

“See what I mean?” Dorian commented to the rest. “Charming. Absolutely _charming_.”

The hedge mage cleared his throat and turned to U’Din. “Well. Shall we?”

“...Okay.” U’Din acquiesced, jerking his head. He smiled a little at Solas, expressing more gratitude than he could with words. The older elf returned the smile with one of his own. They walked to the Inquisitor’s quarters; U’Din quietly watching his feet overtake each other, and Solas quietly watching _him_.

Varric sighed as the two eventually disappeared from the hall, “Well. So much for that.”

“I could practically feel the tension coming from the Inquisitor when she appeared. Something’s not right.”

“The way she treats him is _atrocious_. And did you see the way he just _let it happen_? It’s like he’s used to it, the poor bloke!”

“I’m thinking he _is_ used to it, Sparkler.” The dwarf replied. He sighed again and said, “You know, I used to think that whatever happened to make Willow _Willow_ probably happened back at that clan of his. And that this _Ellana_ he sometimes mentioned was somehow related to it. Dammit. I hate being right.”

“Can we just stuff her in a bag? Like, _right now_?” Sera suggested, cracking her knuckles. “Because I’m game. Are you game? I know you’re all game. Let’s do it!”

“If you all intend to scheme about _murder_ , I suggest you do it elsewhere. I, however, have better things to do.” Vivienne said, starting to leave as well.

“Because the enchanter _always_ has better things to do, of course.” Dorian joked sarcastically, waving a hand in a mocking _goodbye_.

“But of course, my dear. My work never ends. And _someone_ has to come up with a better way to soothe the Inquisitor’s wounds.”

Dorian cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And the one he currently has is inadequate, I bet?”

“My darling, if you know your herbalism, you would know that anything that looks like _that_ couldn’t possibly be used for healing. In fact,” The enchanter paused before disappearing through the door, turning to give him a look, “I would have thought _you’d_ be the first to see that there was something wrong with it.”

As Vivienne left the hall, Dorian stared after her with a thoughtful frown on his face. Blackwall and Iron Bull had dismissed themselves, saying that they should probably help the soldiers practice. Varric had suggested that the three of them take their conversation to the tavern where they can discuss in relative peace— _and booze_ , as Sera added enthusiastically. The frown still remained on his face, even as they exited the keep.

Vivienne’s words echoed in his head, and Dorian found himself in deep thought; now that she mentioned it, the salve _did_ remind him of something. But it couldn’t _possibly_ be that. No way.

 

* * *

 

U’Din sighed as he sat on his bed, cradling his forehead in his hand. The hedge mage mentioned forgetting something that he needed, and he left the blond by his lonesome. When he heard the door click closed, he sighed again and lay on his side.

Today was a _shitty_ day. He had been so tired and sore from his mission in the ‘Mire that all he wanted to do was take a breather and maybe even have a nice, relaxing bath. But _no_ , a break would be too much to ask for, apparently, because Ellana and Mahanon were at Skyhold and making things worse. Making _him_ feel worse. The apprehension, the _fear_ that he only just realized was starting to ebb away from his being grew back like a fucking fungus, and he fucking hated it.

He was doing well. _He was doing so well._ Even _he_ could see that. He started smiling a little more; had more reasons to. He had made friends who didn’t keep mentioning his _incompetence_ and _delicateness_. And finally, he had other things to occupy himself with other than the depressing deaths of the elderly and the sick: _saving people_. It felt _really_ _good_ to realize that he was helping others on a larger scale; made him feel fulfilled in ways that he couldn’t have imagined before. But now all the hard work he’d made to get to where he was—physically and _mentally_ —was gone. Gone, gone, _gone_ , GONE.

He wasn’t meant to have nice things. U’Din should have known.

“U’Din,” Solas’ quiet voice pulled him out of his depressing thoughts. He had emerged from the stairs, carrying a small basket in his hands. The image gave U’Din déjà vu. “I brought a few supplies. You might want to start removing your shirt now.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.” U’Din said, ducking his head as he touched the hem of his shirt.

The hedge mage paused to frown at him. “I wasn’t berating you, Inquisitor. You did not have to apologize.”

“...Sorry.” The blond repeated. He heard Solas sigh quietly, and he scowled down at the floor as he took off his tattered armor. He unfastened the tiny, owl-shaped brooch on his chest, and the collar around his neck loosened. He inspected the state of his clothing once more and realized that he probably needed new armor now.

But what was the point? A man with one arm cannot smith. Reminding himself of that made him deepen his scowl.

“I assume you were taken by surprise.”

U’Din paused mid-strip and looked up at Solas. “Excuse me?”

“Your clansmen. Being here.” Solas set the jar down on the bed briefly so that he could roll his sleeves up to his elbows. He gave U’Din a look. “The minute we heard of your arrival, we all rushed out to meet you. Your clansmen were faster and had reached you first, however, and by the time I had walked out of the keep you had been too surprised to react when ser Mahanon grappled you.”

“ _Grappled_?” The blond repeated incredulously. But now that he thought about it, that _was_ what Mahanon did. That, or tried suffocating him.

“Did you not receive word of their arrival? The Spymaster had sent a raven, if I remember correctly.” Solas queried.

U’Din winced—both from extracting the shirt and the implication of his friend’s words. He shook his head. “I didn’t. Maybe we had already left the Fallow Mire by the time it arrived. Dealing with the Avvar didn’t take too long, surprisingly.”

“Oh?” Solas sounded intrigued as he picked up the jar again and helped U’Din take off the bandages on his back.

The blond looked away from the man as he inspected his back. He didn’t want to see the disgust on the older elf’s face. Or even the mild curiosity. It just made the fact that he had an ugly, decaying body even more _real_ , and the self-loathing came back to hit him in the face full-force. He had almost forgotten how it felt, and now he wished it would have just stayed away and never came back.

“Did you get this from fighting the Avvar?” Solas asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts again.

The blond tensed. He _did_ get it while fighting the Hand of Korth, but as to _how_ he got it, however—shit, Solas was going to be _so_ mad at him, he bet. That wasn’t something he was in the mood for, especially after the ignominy of being reprimanded, so he just nodded and hoped that Solas would leave it alone.

The hedge mage hummed as he hovered his fingers over his back. “These aren’t as bad as I assumed they were. But even the tiniest scratches are affected by your illness, yes?”

“Y-Yeah. As long as there’s bleeding or bruising, the corruption will occur. Bruises are trickier to soothe, though. I have to drink something for that.” _Which he hadn’t had for months_ , he realized. Shit. At the corner of his eye, he saw Solas scooping the salve into his hand, and his eyes widened up at his friend. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Solas raised a brow at him. “I’m about to apply this salve on you. Do you not wish to ease the pain?”

“N-No, it’s not _that_. But Ellana told you to use a cloth, didn’t she?” He said, eyeing the dark paste in the man’s pale hand.

“Do _you_ apply this salve with a cloth?”

“Well— _no_. But you heard her, didn’t you? She says it’s a much better way to apply it with a cloth. I’ve probably been applying it wrong all this time.”

“If you’re worried about the cleanliness of my hands, I _did_ wash them.”

“Solas, that’s not what I mean. I _know_ your hands are clean. I trust you. But—“

“Do you have so much faith in your First that you no longer have any in yourself?”

The blond flinched. _Ouch_. That _really_ hurt. And the calm, no-nonsense tone that Solas used just made it sound more painful than it should have been. The hedge mage seemed to realize it, and his face showed a tinge of regret.

“I apologize. That was uncalled for.” He whispered.

“It’s—It’s okay. You’re right, anyway.” U’Din conceded with a small smile, though it just looked sad on him.

“Still, that was unnecessary.” Pushing away the blond’s hair to the front of U’Din’s shoulders, he prepared to apply the salve on his hand. “Bend forward slightly, please.”

“Okay.” U’Din did, and closed his eyes as Solas started to work.

He couldn’t help but sigh as the familiar, cool paste was spread on his skin. It felt so _amazing_. And the gentle, circular motions Solas did made the experience even more relaxing, almost lulling him to a half-sleep. He missed the way the man eyed him curiously, looking between him and the black paste.

When Solas was done, U’Din looked up to thank him. But he frowned curiously when the man went to his right to sit beside him, eyeing the hand that was resting on his lap.

“We should probably treat that as well.” He said while rubbing off the excess salve on his hand with a cloth. He rubbed something between his hands—an ointment, perhaps?—before scooping up a little more of his Keeper’s salve, minding the limited amount. “There’s some residue seeping out.”

Before Solas could remove the bandages, U’Din moved his hand away. “It’s okay, Solas. You don’t have to trouble yourself any more than you already have. I’ll remove it myself.”

Solas raised a brow at him. “And how, pray tell, would you be able to do that?”

“I’ll just use my other— _oh_.” The blond blushed despite himself, and he meekly offered his hand to the older elf. “Right. Sorry.”

“It is no trouble, U’Din. I realize that this might be frustrating for you, to rely on me for something like this.”

“It’s—It’s not _that_. I just feel bad that you have to be here when you can be doing something else with your time.” U’Din admitted quietly, watching as Solas unwrapped the bandages. He gave the other elf a small smile. “But I do appreciate it, Solas. And you offering to help out in the first place. That was really nice of you.”

“Again, U’Din, it is no trouble. We are friends, are we not? And as for _offering_ to help you, why would that surprise you so? Did you not expect anyone to come to your aid when you need it?”

The blond frowned. “It’s... not _that_ , but—“

“You are nervous. Does the presence of your clansmen bother you that much?”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and he paused just before he removed the last layer of bandage. He shared a brief look with Solas before sighing and turning away. U’Din offered no answer and instead focused on treating his disgusting hand with the salve.

“By your reaction, I assume that the answer is yes.” The hedge mage inferred, watching as the blond applied the salve on his decaying hand. After a few moments of relative silence, Solas chose to break it. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

U’Din paused just slightly before shaking his head. “Not really, no.”

“Are you sure? If you wish to talk about it...”

“There’s no need to talk about it. It’s not even worth _mentioning_.”

“You don’t need to be ashamed, U’Din. I’m not here to judge you. If you need someone to listen—“

“Solas, _please_.” He turned to face Solas with glassy eyes, pulling his hand away from the hedge mage. “I don’t—I don’t _want_ to talk about it. Okay? I’m—I’m sorry, I know you just want to help, but I really just _don’t want to talk about it_.”

Solas pursed his lips. “I apologize, U’Din. I did not mean to pry. I simply wanted to offer you some respite in the way that I know how.”

“And what way would that be, Solas? Another lecture? Some helpful advice on how to stop being so _pathetic_? Is that why you’re still here?” U’Din asked, sounding much more snide than he intended to be. When he realized that, he sighed resignedly. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean that. I’m so—“

“Sorry.” The hedge mage cut him off. “Yes. I know.”

The blond sighed sadly, ducking his head. Not wanting to depress himself even further, he focused on savoring the cool sensation that the salve offered.

It had felt so amazing to have his wounds treated that he didn’t protest too much when Solas offered to apply salve on his other wounds. U’Din blushed, knowing he had to be almost nude in front of the hedge mage, but the promise of relief made him give in, and pretty soon his boots and pants were off as well. He placed the ocarina on top of the bed, missing the way Solas looked at the glowing instrument longingly.

He sat on the bed and tried not to blush furiously when Solas began with rubbing the salve up his leg and thigh; but he couldn’t stop a little whimper from escaping when the man squeezed too tightly once.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, looking up at U’Din from the floor.

“N-No. I was—“ U’Din gulped and shifted a bit, and then cleared his throat. “It’s okay. It’s just been a while since my wounds were treated properly. So.”

“Ah. I see.”

The way Solas just nonchalantly applied the salve bothered U’Din, and it wasn’t because the man’s touch affronted him. _Far from it_. But the thought of Solas’ hands touching where the skin was corrupted, deformed, _ugly_ —it made him regret giving in to the hedge mage’s thoughtfulness so easily. He should have insisted that he apply the salve himself instead of having Solas see—much less _touch_ —the disgusting ugliness that was his corrupted body. Even _U’Din_ found it difficult looking at himself sometimes.

So why was Solas acting like there was absolutely _nothing_ wrong with him? He didn’t understand.

“Aren’t—“ The blond began, swallowing when Solas paused to look up at him.

“Yes? What is it?” He prompted, scooping up a new batch from the jar beside him.

“Aren’t you _disgusted_?” The word came out of his mouth before he could find a _less intense_ term, and he blushed at how frank he sounded.

“By your First?” Solas asked casually, still rubbing the salve on his leg. “If that is what you meant, then yes. Yes, I am.”

“No, that’s not what I _meant_ , ass.” He grumbled, still blushing. “I meant, well—“

“You meant what?”

“Well, you know. You’re inches away from my wounds. I mean, it’s okay if you find them _ugly_ , so you don’t have to—“

“Your wounds? Or do you mean... your body?”

That sounded _so wrong_ coming from Solas’ mouth, U’Din thought. Not that he was insulting his friend or anything, just—it sounded weird to him. It made him feel weird. _Very_ weird. He was right, though, so the blond nodded and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was ashamed. “Well, _both_. Because they are, right? I mean, with all the... decaying flesh and drying blood and everything. And I know how bad it smells, especially if I haven’t used the salve for a while.”

“Those are your _wounds_ , U’Din. And the decaying is just a side-effect of your rare sickness. They have nothing to do with your body at all.”

“Don’t they? They _are_ on my body.”

“Your wounds have nothing to do with your body, U’Din. I’m not so superficial as to mistake one for the other.”

“So... you’re _not_ disgusted?”

“My thoughts on your wounds revolve around general concern. As for your _body_ , however,” Solas finally looked up at him at that moment, and a small, yet somehow _infuriatingly cheeky_ smile appeared on his face. “I think you have nothing to be concerned about.”

U’Din blinked. “What do you mean?”

The smile grew slightly bigger, and a familiar, teasing glint in the man’s eyes shone as he looked up at him. “You’re a smart man, U’Din. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

The blond groaned in frustration. “Solas, come on. I’m serious.”

“I don’t see why I have to explain it. It should be obvious. But if you must know, I do not dislike your body.” Solas paused, looking at his leg thoughtfully. He applied one last layer of salve on his thigh, his movements deliberate and slow. “Especially from _this_ view.”

U’Din reddened to the tips of his ears, mouth opening and closing in a silent babble. Solas just smiled, leaving one last trail on the blond’s thigh before standing up to take care of the blond’s other wounds.

They spent the rest of their time treating U’Din’s wounds in relative silence. The only time they did interact verbally was when there was a _final_ wound for Solas to treat, but U’Din _strongly insisted_ that he take care of that himself. The hedge mage had looked like he wanted to argue, but the pleading look on the blond’s face made him acquiesce. They fell into another silence as Solas wrapped his treated wounds in bandages, but levity was restored when the older elf jokingly offered to help U’Din dress in his casual wear as well.

“I can put on my clothes myself, _thanks_.” U’Din grumbled, but there was no real bite to his words.

“Are you sure? I may not have the extravagant and ostentatious tastes as Madam Vivienne and Dorian, but I can at least help you select a suitable outfit.”

“ _Ass_.”

“Such language, Inquisitor.”

U’Din dressed up in his casual clothes—a much less showy version of the atrocity he was forced to wear during his appointment ceremony. Although it still hugged his thighs and rear, he didn’t mind it as much. Plus, the outfit was mostly neutral shades, which was a bonus.

“Lethallin.”

“Hm?”

“I just wanted you to know that you are an individual worthy of praise and respect. And that not one person has the right to make you feel otherwise. Please remember that.”

U’Din paused in closing the final button on his shirt, surprised by the sudden declaration. But when he realized what had possibly prompted it, he sighed. “Solas, please, I—“

“Don’t want to discuss it. Yes, I know.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?”

“I just felt like you needed the reminder. Especially after what happened today.” Solas collected his things and placed them on the tiny basket he brought up. He applied more of that ointment on his hands. “Nobody deserves to be treated the way your First treats you, U’Din. I hope you understand that.”

“She’s not _always_ like that. She’s only doing her job as the First.”

“A First’s job is to humiliate the Second?”

“Solas, please don’t pry. You’re not even part of a clan.”

“I don’t need to be part of a clan to know that her treatment of you is wrong, U’Din. And I hope one day you’ll realize just how much.”

The hedge mage then bid him goodbye, telling him to get some well-needed rest. But before he could walk down the stairs, U’Din followed him and blocked his path. Solas raised an eyebrow at him curiously, silently asking what he wanted.

U’Din swallowed and said, “I just— _Thank you_. For helping me. For _always_ helping.”

Solas’ eyes softened. “Like I said before, U’Din, it was no trouble. And I will continue to offer as much help as my skills allow. Surely you realize that.”

“I know. But—I think it means so much more because it’s you. Because you always help without asking for anything in return. So really, _thank you_.” The blond supplied, flexing his fingers nervously. “And thanks for what you said earlier, too. About... my body not being disgusting. Even though you were probably lying.”

“I’m glad that I’ve made you feel better. But I did not lie when I said those things, U’Din.”

The blond frowned at him. “But you said—“

“I never say things unnecessarily, U’Din. I thought I told you that?” Solas said with a delayed smile. He took one step forward, pausing when his shoulder almost touched the blond’s. Their sudden closeness caused U’Din’s breath to hitch, his mouth to dry.

“ _Solas_ —“

“Have a good rest, Inquisitor. _Dareth shiral_.” Solas said softly near his ear, making U’Din shiver. He smiled as he made his descent, leaving a speechless Inquisitor to gape at the wall.

Just outside by the balcony, an owl perched on the railings and observed the dazed elf move to lie on his bed. When the rise and fall of the blond’s chest became slow and even, the owl closed its eyes and vanished in a mist of white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me HAHAHAHAHAHA /dodges tomatoes/ But um. I updated? Yey? /dodges garbage truck/ OKAY, GEEZ. Sorry for making U'Din feel so horrible about himself again; it's supposed to happen. Well, according to my outline :)) But ya know, it's also important for the plot! So while it's really uncomfortable reading him think and feel this way, I ask that you guys remain strong. For our U'Din. /raises fist in solidarity
> 
> And also, lol, that really flirty moment with U'Din's leg. I'm really, REALLY sorry, I know the situation wasn't exactly appropriate but I couldn't resist. And the dialogue wrote itself, to be honest. And Solas _is_ trying to speed things up, remember? Lol. But the egghead's not gonna have an easy time, nope :P
> 
> [This](http://prodigal-san.tumblr.com/post/140413877454/rip-udin-save-8-i-doubt-ill-ever-be-able-to) is how I envision U'Din's more casual Inquisitor outfit to look like. It's totally a mod, but it's different too. :)) I think I'm gonna make my own design eventually, but you guys can check that out for now.
> 
> Once again, thank you guys so, SO much for reading and taking the time to leave kudos and comments. It really means a lot to me to know that you're enjoying my story, and I always get excited to see some feedback! :) I'll try to make sure the next update won't take as long this one lmao. Till then, I'll see you all soon! Love you!
> 
> Note: I added a couple of lines to Dorian and U'Din's conversation at the end of the previous chapter. Please do check it out if ya wanna.


	27. Provoked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Not Beta'd. Also, Solas says quite a bit of hurtful words at the end of this chapter--some of which _may_ be triggering to certain people. You've been warned.
> 
> Note 2: Also, I didn't have the chance to thoroughly proofread this right before posting it up like I usually do because _laptop issues_ , so if there are any mistakes I'll correct them as soon as I'm able to go online again. So sorry if there are any errors!

The sun was about to rise.

Cole was watching a surgeon tending to the dying when he saw Shivehn flying over the battlements. The owl hovered a bit before perching on the stone railings, looking out into the horizon. The spirit closed his eyes and imagined himself standing behind the owl, and within seconds, there he was. He sat next to the owl, murmuring a good morning as he let his feet dangle and swing.

Ever since the Inquisition made Skyhold its new home, Cole and Shivehn would meet by the ramparts to watch the sunrise together. It had began as an accident, now that Cole thought about it; the stronghold held many secrets and stories—cracks that weren’t just _empty_ of fillings, and debris that were remains of more than just warfare and siege. The survivors of Haven filled the place with sadness, hurt and regret, but Skyhold already had a surplus of those way before they even set foot in the place. Cole had been listening to the stories lost in the crenels when he stumbled upon Shivehn one morning, perched on one of the walls’ teeth and looking over the horizon. Cole had sat next to the owl, marking the beginning of a daily ritual that was sometimes filled with quiet, sometimes filled with hums and hoots.

What would it be like _this_ time, he wondered.

As they watched the sun slowly peek out of the mountains, Cole thought that this sunrise wasn’t very different from the sunrise of yesterday, and the one from two weeks ago. Nor to the sunrise he would catch back at Haven, except the view was definitely much better from the battlements. He wondered, then, if the sunrise today would be the same one tomorrow, and to the one exactly a year from now.

But there was no sure way to tell. Who knew if this would be the same view they’d have tomorrow? Or... if it would even still _happen_? That’s probably why Cole thought it was nice to see it occur every morning; though the sunrise of today would always be similar to the one from yesterday, the sunrise of tomorrow might never ever come. _The sun would set, and it would be the last set we’d ever see._ Those were _his_ thoughts, anyway.

Cole wondered what _Shivehn_ thought about when they were sitting together like this. So he asked him, voice soft, as he tapped his heels against the stone walls in a steady rhythm. The owl hooted in reply; a low vibration in its chest. Cole hummed back and looked up at the slowly lightening sky.

“You’re counting the suns...” The spirit repeated quietly, sounding intrigued. _Tap, tap_. “How many so far?”

Another hoot, then another hum.

“That’s a lot of suns. Ever since... _that_ time?” He asked. The owl nodded in his peripheral, and he smiled wistfully down at his pale hands. “Time flies fast. Forward, never fro. Withering, waning with no warning. What was once is _now_ , and what is now is _waiting_. Will it become _will_? Or wilt, it will? And when it wilts, will it wilt without warning?

“Will _he_ wilt when time finally wills it?”

Shivehn gave a sad hoot, its large eyes drooping as it looked up at the spirit. Cole sighed and shook his head.

“I know. And I understand. I just... can’t accept.” The spirit said sadly. “All I want to do is help, yet the best way to help is _not_ to help. It’s... difficult for me, Shivehn. Every time I go near him, my hands twitch and my heart twinges; the echoes that had softened, almost silenced... they’re back, and louder than ever before. And it’s because _they’re_ here. I really, _really_ want to help. Can I? Just... a little?”

The owl looked at Cole with sad eyes, and with regret it shook its head. Cole frowned and played with his fingers.

“No. I guess not. The helper cannot be helped, even by another helper who wants to help.”

As Cole sighed again, Shivehn hopped over to the spirit’s lap and pressed its head against the spirit’s stomach. The spirit ran a hand over the owl’s head and closed his eyes.

“Time flies fast. Forward, never fro.” He said quietly to the owl. “He will remember. _Soon_.”

The sun rose to its full glory in the sky, and before the light could shine on them both, they vanished.

 

* * *

 

In another part of Skyhold, the sun also shone on someone else, except this individual was tucked in bed, fast asleep. But his brows met in the middle, and his forehead lit with sweat. He was also groaning, grabbing onto his sheets. He was dreaming.

Or rather, _he was running._

_U’Din jumped over a fallen tree and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, silver flashing with every step, soar and slide. In his head, he had no idea why he was running—and from what. But his body apparently knew exactly what it was doing, evading tall, iridescent trees and avoiding red blasts of energy._

_Wait,_ what _?!_

_He looked over his shoulder and watched as a tree fell, red flames quickly covering the trunk. He faced back to the way ahead and let out a curse—and the colorful word felt so foreign on his tongue._

_U’Din rarely cursed in Elvhen. What was going on?_

_He skidded to a halt when he ended up in front of a ravine. The blond hesitated for a moment, but after hearing a blast from behind him, he took a leap of faith—literally. He jumped over the edge just as a red beam hit where he stood seconds ago, and he used his magic to cushion his feet as he stepped on protruding rocks._

_When he landed at the base of the ravine, someone shouted from the right._ Hope _, they called out. His head shot up at the word, and he turned to see hooded elves running towards him. They arrived before him, and he saw that they all had vallaslin on their faces. In his head, he was confused upon realizing what—or_ who _they represented._

 _The hooded elves started speaking to him urgently, and their words were so fast that U’Din’s confused mind couldn’t catch all of them—ambush, undead army,_ corrupted magic _. He felt himself panic over the thought of undead, but his body tensed, but for a different reason that was not fear. He growled in frustration and angrily removed the mask on his face._

_He was wearing a mask? That was odd._

_What was even more odd was that U’Din started giving out instructions to the strange elves. He told one of them to evacuate a nearby village, and he told another to warn the others in their fold. The last one he ordered to go with him, for he needed help in distracting the enemy. U’Din then bid them good luck and warned them to tread lightly and remain vigilant,_ for the living can wait, but the dead won’t _. U’Din’s mind reeled at the familiar adage._

_He had just put his mask back on when the ground shook, and he felt a large, powerful wave of magic coming their way. His mouth opened to bark MOVE before a red blast struck where they stood, making them fly across the area._

_U’Din groaned and rose from the ground, but instead of a forest,_ he found himself sitting up in his quarters at Skyhold. He looked very confused—and also, very afraid.

A few moments later, he stood up and headed to his wardrobe.

 

* * *

 

Leliana had always been an early riser. She was trained to be that way ever since she was a child, and she realized that there were more benefits to rising with the sun than waiting for mid-morning to open one’s eyes. One gets things done a lot more quickly, and, being the Inquisition’s Spymaster, she had a _lot_ of things to do. Plus, it just felt really nice to see the pinkish hue of the sky; she thought it was pretty.

Of course, not _everyone_ was eager to start the day so early. A few hours later, Leliana saw Cullen and Josephine talking in the hall. Both looked as impeccable and alert as their station demanded, but with a trained eye Leliana could tell it wasn’t as simple as that. She greeted her fellow advisors with a chipper _morning_ , and they greeted her back—just with _less_ chirp.

“I see you two are ready to face the day.” Leliana joked.

“I’ve been _facing_ the day for more than an hour already. Helped train the new recruits.” Cullen said, rotating his shoulder and sighing. “Trained a bit, myself. Can’t afford to be rusty.”

Josephine opened her mouth to say something, but she immediately turned away and covered her mouth when a yawn came out instead of words. She blushed and said, “Oh dear, pardon me. I’m afraid I’m still quite tired.”

“Long day, yesterday.” Leliana obliged, nodding.

“You wouldn’t know half of it. That Mahanon fellow caused quite enough trouble as it is, but that _Avvar_ from yesterday afternoon didn’t have to make things _worse_. I swear, of all the nonsensical—“

“I thought it was pretty funny, if not trite. Can you imagine? Attacking the walls with _goats_?” Cullen snorted, ignoring the frown the Ambassador sent his way. “Maker knows how he even brought so many.”

“I’m more concerned about how he managed to walk by our scouts. I think they need more training.” Leliana scowled, not exactly amused by the Avvar’s “assault” on Skyhold, either.

Cullen laughed. “Perhaps they doubted what they saw. Because _really_ , an Avvar carrying goats up towards Skyhold? Am I the only one who has trouble imagining that?”

“Go back to sleep, Commander. You’re obviously still tired.”

“I’m wide awake, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I doubt _that_.”

“In any case, we’ve now a few people that deserve punishment. Knight-Captain Denam is still in our prisons, waiting for the Inquisitor’s judgment. The Avvar and ser Mahanon being our recent offenders.”

“We’ve held off Denam’s punishment for too long. The templars in our midst would want to see justice served.” Cullen nodded solemnly, frowning.

“Is ser Mahanon being kept in the dungeons? I doubt that the Inquisitor would approve of such a thing.” Leliana asked.

“Technically we _can_ put him there, and to be honest I’d feel much more secure if we did that. The man _did_ just attempt to behead Cassandra. But, as you’ve said, lord U’Din might not approve. We settled with simply keeping him in his assigned quarters where he can be supervised.”

“What about his sister, miss Ellana?”

“She hasn’t done anything that would warrant an arrest. Unless, of course, you count...” Josephine trailed off, looking upset all of a sudden. Her fellow advisors mirrored her expression, knowing fully well what the Antivan had wanted to say.

“I still can’t believe we didn’t confront her about that. No one should speak to the Inquisitor in such a way.” Cullen scowled.

“I would have very much wanted to question her animosity towards the Inquisitor as well, but she argued that she was only fulfilling her duty as the First. We can’t interfere too much on matters related to the Inquisitor’s clan. Or did you two forget what happened the _last_ time we acted without his permission?”

“And we should just let the Herald take offense even if he deserved none?” Leliana asked, raising a brow. “You were there. The woman was absolutely _brutal_ towards him.”

“This is a difficult situation to gauge, my friends. The nature of their argument was personal, that much is certain; so I’m afraid we cannot simply interfere. Not unless the Inquisitor seeks our aid.”

“And knowing him, he wouldn’t.” Cullen sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I still can’t help but think we’re coddling him. We agreed to be patient with him, but—“

“We hadn’t needed to be patient with him since coming to Skyhold. He took charge in that mission in the Fallow Mire, and based on his written reports the operation went rather smoothly. Blackwall, Dorian and Sera all reported the same thing.”

“That’s right. He’s shown a lot of progress, and despite his disability and lack of leading experience, he has proven to the templars that he is worthy of his position.” Josephine agreed with a wistful expression on her face. “He’s gone through so much, and even though we had that issue of him possibly leaving back at Haven... I do believe he has improved. And he might not realize it, but he’s warmed up to the position of leading. It comes to him naturally, now that I think about it.”

“But it seems like everything he has done was all for naught, if what we discussed last night has any inkling of truth.” Cullen sighed, shaking his head.

“About this Ellana being the root cause of his...?” Leliana trailed off, continuing only after receiving a solemn nod from Cullen. “We don’t know that for sure, Commander. What we’ve theorized so far _is_ alarming, but unless we get more information, we can’t help the Inquisitor. Perhaps we have to do a bit of digging—“

“ _Or_ we could just ask _him_.” Josephine cut off sternly. “There’s no need to be always _sneaky._ It’s like you never learned _anything_ about that incident with his Keeper’s parcel!”

“Come on, Josie, it’s not like he’s going to find out. We’ll be quiet, _subtle_.”

“No, we do this the _proper_ way. We owe it to the Inquisitor.”

_“Owe me what?”_

The advisors paused and turned around, blinking when they saw the Inquisitor peeking out of the War Room. The man was fully dressed and, strangely enough, looked like he had been awake for hours.

“Inquisitor?” The Antivan began, tilting her head. She straightened her posture and nodded. “I mean— _Inquisitor_. Good morning. We didn’t realize you’d already be awake at this hour. Did you sleep well?”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and for a moment he looked fearful. But it went away as soon as it came, and he cleared his throat as curiosity took its place. “Uh, what were you talking about earlier? About... owing me something? I heard you discussing from inside, but I was only able to catch that.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” Cullen muttered, ignoring the quick jab from Leliana’s elbow.

“Our meeting won’t begin until later this morning, Inquisitor. But I suppose you wouldn’t have known, given that you were resting yesterday.” Leliana’s remark was meant to be innocent, but the reminder of his absence caused the Inquisitor’s face to darken.

The blond elf sighed and ducked his head in a show of apology. “I’m sorry for leaving in the middle of the meeting. If I had been more careful in the ‘Mire, I wouldn’t have needed to treat my wounds. If—If there’s anything I could do to make up for it, I’m more than willing to—“

“Inquisitor, you needn’t apologize. Your health takes precedence to everything. Didn’t I say so yesterday?” Cullen cut him off gently.

U’Din bit his lip. “ _Yeah_ , but I still feel bad, you know. It was important that I was there, and yet I just _left_. It’s not like I wanted to.”

The advisors smiled sadly, knowing fully well that the Inquisitor wanted to do anything _but_ stay, considering what had been going on then. Still, they appreciated his willingness to make up for his absence; it gave them a bit of hope.

“Of course you didn’t, my lord. But as Commander Cullen has mentioned, your health is more important than a meeting. After all, it’s not like we cannot discuss what transpired yesterday _today_ , yes?”

U’Din sighed. “I guess. But I don’t want that to overshadow what we’re supposed to do today. Is there anything important we should talk about today?”

“Preferably, we should discuss any possible strategies concerning Empress Celene’s ball. Vivienne has been a great help procuring invitations for us, but the Inquisition has become such an influential figure that I’m confident we would have received invitations even without Vivienne as our ally.” Josephine supplied.

“But she certainly got us the invites _faster_.” Leliana smiled.

Josephine smiled back. “ _That_ is true.”

The blond elf suppressed the urge to sigh. That was right—they had uncovered a plot to assassinate the empress, which was why they _had_ to be at the ball no matter what. U’Din would have felt less apprehensive of that plan if _he_ wouldn’t be needed to attend.

But he was the Inquisitor—he _had_ to attend. Not doing so would probably be some sort of insult, considering they had just received invitations. He wondered what hosts do in retaliation to those who ignored invitations; poison in his food? Skyhold burning down? _A sudden, questionable shortage of fine cheese_?

He was about to agree with Cullen’s vocal reluctance to attending such an ostentatious event, but the thought of cheese had made him think of _food_ , thus his stomach rumbled _very loudly_ , causing the advisors to pause and blink at him. U’Din felt so embarrassed that even the tips of his ears turned pink.

“ _Inquisitor_ ,” Josephine began slowly, almost dangerously. U’Din wanted to cower away from her. “Have you had your breakfast?”

“I, um,” He stammered, trying to come up with a good excuse. For some reason, “losing his appetite over a bad dream” didn’t sound very justifiable. Or dignifying. “W-Well, I hadn’t exactly done any work, so I thought it wasn’t proper to eat yet. And I hadn’t been hungry when I woke up—“

“But it’s been hours since you’ve been awake, yes? Did you at least have some soup?” The Ambassador asked. When U’Din avoided her gaze, her glare hardened. “Inquisitor! You’re recovering from a recent injury! You need the nutrients! We can’t have you suddenly collapsing!”

The blond fumbled with the hem of his shirt. “But I felt bad about eating before everyone else—“

“You have poor health, Inquisitor. Your needs are obviously different from most people.”

“I’m not _that_ sick, Lady Josephine. Mildly disabled and diseased, sure, but I’m _not_ ailing to the point of being bedridden.”

“Don’t jinx yourself, Inquisitor. And Josie _does_ have a point.” Leliana replied much less shrilly, but the disapproving tone was still there. “You should have breakfast in the hall first. In fact, why don’t we _all_ have breakfast? I believe that most of our allies break their fast at this hour.”

“But we just had—“ Cullen began, but when Josephine and Leliana both turned to give him a look, he stopped and cleared his throat. “I mean, we just had... a similar thought a while ago. It’s been a few hours, and I _do_ suppose we’ve done enough work to finally sit down and eat. Nothing wrong with rewarding ourselves with a meal, eh?”

“Splendid! Then let’s eat!”

“ _But_ —“

“Come along, Inquisitor! That stomach of yours isn’t going to fill itself, you know.”

U’Din sighed as he was practically pulled into the main hall, but he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of food. That dream had scared him so much that any form of distraction was appreciated. Because that _explosion_ had felt so real. Very, _very_ real. Like it had actually _happened_. And that red blast... it eerily reminded him of red lyrium.

He shuddered. Well, it was just a dream. No matter how scary it had been, at the end of the day that’s just what it was. He was back in reality now, safe and sound, where there were no faceless enemies, falling trees or red explosions chasing after him. Just him, his advisors, his friends, and his clansme—

Mahanon. _Ellana_.

U’Din groaned.

 

* * *

 

“ _Vhenan_!” Mahanon stood up from the table as he saw U’Din appear, ignoring the way the guards tensed from behind him. Ellana, who had been sitting across him, rolled her eyes at the attempt.

“Hello, Mahanon. And, err, hello, Ellana.” U’Din smiled as sincerely as he could as he approached the table, trying his best not to show how nervous he was. His eyes shifted briefly towards the sitting First before landing back on the beaming hunter. “I see you’re both having breakfast. Mind if I... join?”

“Why are you being so formal? Just sit down, will you.” Ellana replied, sipping from her goblet.

“Err—right.” U’Din immediately sat next to her, pursing his lips. He didn’t see the way his advisors frowned behind him.

Mahanon sat back down and looked at him earnestly. “How are you? Did you sleep well? Are your wounds bothering you? Do you need help with—“

“It’s okay, Mahanon. I’m fine. I slept— _fine_ , and my wounds aren’t bothering me. I don’t need help, but thanks for offering.”

The hunter leaned back in his chair with a doubtful expression on his face. “Are you sure? I know how much your wounds bothered you before, and now that you have _more_ of them, I doubt that you’re faring any better.”

U’Din bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a scathing remark. Instead, he just forced a smile and said, “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t need any help right now.”

“Well, if you’re _sure_ ,” Mahanon conceded, still sounding unconvinced. But then he shrugged and grinned. “Just remember that if you need any help, you can go ask me. Or Ellana. But maybe you’re better off asking me since I can _probably_ take care of you better. Mythal knows how delicate you are.”

 _I’M NOT DELICATE_ , something Big and Noisy squawked indignantly in his head. U’Din ignored the urge to repeat it out loud and just maintained the smile on his face, betraying none of the inner turmoil he was feeling inside.

Ellana rolled her eyes next to him and lazily stirred the soup left over in her bowl. She eyed U’Din for a few moments, watching him briefly speak with his advisors as they dismissed themselves, claiming that they’ll call the others. She watched him say thank you to the servant who served him a bowl of the same soup she had, and then reach for a piece of bread. When he tucked his hair behind his ear, she noticed how long it was for the first time and frowned.

“U’Din, your hair has gotten long.” She observed.

The blond touched his head and hair self-consciously. “I, err, yeah. I was kinda too busy to maintain it so it just sort-of got long before I knew it and—“

“You should cut it.” Ellana cut him off, reaching across for a piece of bread. “Preferably today.”

U’Din frowned at her hand as it passed by his face, and he followed it back as she retracted it. “Really? I mean, I understand that it can be a hindrance, but so far I haven’t had too much trouble with it. I tie it when I’m out, and—“

“That’s not really the point. The Keeper said to keep it short, didn’t she? So you have to keep it short.” She tore a portion of the bread and put it in her mouth. She waited until it was soft enough to swallow before speaking again, “Besides, long hair doesn’t really suit you.”

U’Din’s frown deepened, and he looked down at his bowl. That... really hurt. “Well, I specifically remember her saying that it’s _better_ if I keep it short, not _should_. Even though it might be more practical to have it cut, I kinda like it long, and—“

“What you like doesn’t matter. You _can’t_ keep it long. End of story. Just cut it.”

“But I—“

“Cut. It.”

U’Din’s eyes flashed as their glares met, and his grip on his spoon had tightened so much that it had cracked from the pressure—a tell-tale sign that he was starting to get upset. Mahanon saw this and sat up straighter, looking between his sister and U’Din.

“Hey. _Ellana_!”

“ _What_?”

“You should probably back off. If you upset him—“

“What’s he going to do? Blow up a table?” Ellana shot back. She turned back towards her clan’s Second and raised a brow at him. “Is that what you want to do? Lose your temper like some sort of child?”

The vividness of U’Din’s eyes vanished, and immediately he backed down. He looked away from the First and bowed his head in apology. “Sorry. I just—It’s my hair. And I used to grow it out before. I just don’t understand why I can’t do that now, even for a while.”

His voice was quiet and searching for answers, and the hurt in his voice had caused Ellana’s hardened gaze to soften a little bit. Then she huffed and turned away from him, waving a hand in a gesture of dismissal.

“I don’t make the rules, U’Din. If the Keeper said you should keep it short, then you should _keep it short_. If you want to know why, then come back home with us and ask _her_.”

The blond frowned and shook his head. “You know I can’t go back. I’m the Inquisitor. I have things to do, fade rifts to close—“

“Well, you’re just gonna have to settle for no answer, then. Because I don’t have it.”

U’Din took a deep breath and tried to get himself to relax. Having to talk to Ellana was stressful enough as it was, but _arguing_ with her—which happened more frequently as they got older, he noticed—took too much of his energy. It fucking pissed him off, but he was too hesitant to do much about it. After all, if he let himself get angry at her—

No, that would _never_ happen. Not if he could help it.

He sighed, and eventually he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “All right, fine. If the Keeper wants it short then... I’ll keep it short. But I’ll need a bit of help in cutting my hair, especially the back part.”

“Hmph, figures you can’t do anything by yourself.” She commented offhandedly. “Fine. We’ll cut it tonight. Make yourself available.”

“Yeah, I think that would be fine. After supper.”

“Sure.”

“...Thanks.”

“Whatever.”

Mahanon looked at the two elves with a conflicted expression on his face. Part of him wanted to berate his sister, tell her to cut U’Din some slack; the another part knew _exactly_ why she did what she did, so telling her off wouldn’t lead to much success. But most of him just felt sad seeing the scene before him, knowing very well that two hadn’t always been like this. He remembered two kids sitting outside the Keeper’s tent, making crowns out vines and leaves and intertwining flowers in each other’s hair.

He looked at his sister with a disappointed expression on his face. _Oh, Ellana_. Shaking the frown off his face, he decided to try to cheer U’Din up the best way he could.

“Hey, don’t look so down, U’Din. You look great no matter what length your hair is. Don’t let it bother you too much.” He complimented, smiling when the blond turned to look at him. He then grinned and leaned closer, cradling his face in his hands. “But for what it’s worth, I like you with your hair this long. Kinda gives you this _regal_ look to you, you know? It’s like I’m looking at a prince.”

Ellana snorted, muttering the word _prince_ derisively. U’Din, however, blushed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Uh. Thanks. You didn’t have to say that but... thanks. I think.” The Inquisitor said, tucking his hair behind his ears again.

Mahanon grinned and clicked his heels on the floor. “It’s no problem, vhenan. It’s not very hard to speak the truth.”

The blond suppressed the urge to groan. “I’m flattered, Mahanon. Really. But it’s okay, I’ve accepted that I need to cut my hair already. There’s no need for you to try to cheer me up.”

“Why do you think I’m just saying that just to cheer you up? I meant what I said, vhenan.”

“Mahanon, stop calling me that. _Please_.”

“Stop calling you what?”

“ _Vhenan_. Stop calling me that.”

“Why? But you’re—“

“Mahanon, _please_ , don’t make this more difficult than it should be. We’re not—“

_“Willow!”_

The three elves turned to see Varric walking up to them, along with a few of the Inquisitor’s companions. U’Din smiled at the friendly faces of Dorian, Sera, Iron Bull and—he blushed when he saw Solas, and he turned back to his soup to stir it quite forcefully.

Mahanon noticed this and frowned. “Hey, U’Din, are you—“

“ _Droopy!_ ”

The Inquisitor let out a loud _oof!_ when Sera collided into him, almost pushing him out of his seat. They both struggled to regain their balance, each screaming their own choice of expletives. After Sera managed to push herself off of him to stand on her own two feet, she grinned down at him.

“Hey, _you_! Feeling better today?”

“ _Sera_! You complete loon! What are you—“

“Well, good _mooorning_ to you, too!” The archer cut him off jovially. Then she frowned. “But you _are_ feeling better today, right? You should be. Solas said he put on that salve thingy whatever on you, so you should be good, yeah?”

After one last pout, U’Din smiled up at her and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for asking. Solas took good care of me yesterday—err, my _wounds_ , that is.”

“Of _course_ , he did. It’s Chuckles.” Varric sat beside U’Din on his right, grinning. Then he leaned in and not-whispered conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think he’s got a soft spot for you. Don’t tell him I said that, though, so—“

“One usually keeps their voice low when whispering, Master Tethras.” Said Solas blandly from behind U’Din, smiling down when the blond tilted his head back to look at him.

The dwarf looked mock-surprised and placed a hand over his chest. “Chuckles! I had _no_ idea you were there. Why, if I had been aware of your presence, I would have been more _careful_ about what I said about you.”

“I can relate to your surprise, Varric.” Dorian commented from the side, chuckling in that _hmhm_ way of his. “Solas is usually so nondescript. It would take years of master training to _ever_ notice him.”

“Please speak up, Dorian. I can’t hear you over your outfit.” Solas shot back smoothly.

“ _Ouch_. That was brutal.” Bull hissed, laughing loudly after.

Varric turned back towards U’Din and pointed at Solas with him thumb. “See? Bet he doesn’t get preachy and sassy like this with you.”

U’Din snorted before he could stop himself. “I’d like to argue that he’s at the height of his preachiness and sassiness with me. But Solas means well. He gives the best advice.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor. It’s comforting to know that one’s efforts are appreciated for what they are.”

The blond smiled up at Solas and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever not appreciate you, Solas—ah, that is, for what you do. I mean.”

Solas’ brows shot up briefly in surprise before a warm expression graced his face. U’Din stammered and turned back to his breakfast, trying his best to ignore the jeering laughs from Varric and Dorian and the gagging noises from Sera.

While there was lightheartedness surrounding the Inquisition members, a cloud of mixed emotions loomed over the two Dalish elves. Ellana had turned away in disgust when Sera bounced over, but she kept looking between U’Din and Solas—or more particularly, at the man’s hands. Mahanon, on the other hand, observed the interaction much more directly. He frowned as he focused more on the closeness between U’Din and the clean-faced elf named Solas.

Solas felt the heaviness of his stare and looked up to lock gazes with him. Their nonverbal communication was quick, like lightning, but it left the hedge mage looking away with a tiny smirk, and Mahanon with a barely-concealed snarl.

Ellana noticed the way Mahanon was gripping his spoon and rolled her eyes. She let out a sigh and pushed away from the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Seeing as we’re done eating, I don’t see why we should stick around. Let’s go, Mahanon. U’Din, don’t forget about tonight.”

U’Din looked at her and nodded solemnly, while the guards stationed behind Mahanon moved, waiting for the hunter to stand up. The hunter bristled at being treated like a prisoner, but one look from Ellana discouraged him from making any vocal protests. Seeing U’Din’s advisors, who had just come back with that enchanter and that _Seeker_ , also made him want to leave, so he stood up and pointedly ignored the Inquisition soldiers keeping an eye on him.

The First shook her head at her brother’s immaturity and started to leave, but then stopped before she could walk too far away from the table. She turned around and looked at the hedge mage still standing behind U’Din.

“You were the one who applied U’Din’s salve. Was there any left?”

“Oh, it’s with me, Ellana. Solas left it with me yesterday so I could apply it—uh, _there_.” U’Din paused, briefly looking into Mahanon’s direction.

The hunter frowned guiltily and looked away. Ellana nodded. “I see. So is there any left?”

“Um. Barely any of it is left. Maybe a dollop, I don’t know. It wouldn’t be enough to cover any of the wounds I have now.”

“Still, you should give the rest of it to me. It’s not easy to make, so we have to save as much as we could.”

“How hard is it to make a salve thingy?” Sera huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

The redheaded elf ignored her. “Give it to me when we see each other later. All right?”

U’Din forced a small smile. “Yeah, okay. See you two later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“Bye, U’Din! Head to our room when you’re not too busy later. Mythal knows you could use some good company.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” The blond said, his smile less forced this time. He made a little wave as his clansmen were escorted out of the hall, pausing only when the advisors decided to speak with them. He turned back towards the table and sighed, stirring the soup in his bowl.

Before leaving, Ellana and Mahanon stared at the group, looking oddly bothered.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I still can’t get over how incredibly _charming_ they both are.” Dorian commented. “And that’s a feat, I’ll let you all know now.”

“It’s not hard to imagine you being _so hard to impress_ , Sparkler.” Varric retorted, chuckling.

Solas sat in the chair that Ellana left vacant and whispered, “I’d like to see that salve before you give it back to her.”

U’Din blinked. “What—“

“Well, at least they’re gone. I actually thought we’d have to eat breakfast with them around.” Varric sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“Yeah! And what was that he said? Droopy could use some _good company_? That’s friggin’ rich!” Sera had walked around the table to sit in the chair Mahanon sat in before, reaching for a piece of bread. She waved it around as she complained, “Pissbag obviously hasn’t listened to himself talk! I swear, he’s just so _annoying_ with that voice and shit-eating grin and—ughh! How could you stand being around someone so—so _obnoxious_ , Droopy?”

“A mystery for the ages, apparently.” Dorian said, sitting next to her. “But I do wonder—are you talking about that Mahanon or yourself?”

“I would shove this bread up your arse if it wouldn’t be such a waste.” Sera grumbled, taking another bite and chewing aggressively.

“What a shame. I could have turned my arse into a bakery. It would make good profit, too.”

“Hasn’t it already been doing that?” Iron Bull said, also taking a sit. He turned towards U’Din and gave him a friendly nod. “Hey, boss. Glad you’re doing fine now.”

The blond smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Iron Bull.”

“Egad, that’s like poison to my ears. _Mr. Iron Bull_. How _queer_!”

“You _would_ be a reliable authority on what’s queer, eh?”

“My, would you like some sugar? Because you’re being downright salty.”

“The only salty one here is covered in overpriced silk.”

“Care to add some to my collection?”

“I’d buy you dinner first.”

U’Din frowned worriedly, looking between the qunari and the Tevinter. “Hey, please don’t fight—“

“Re _lax_ , Willow. It’s just playful banter. No harm done.” The dwarf patted his arm in a reassuring gesture. When U’Din just looked bemused, Varric sighed and said. “Yeah. You’re probably not used to that sort of thing being harmless, huh?”

“Way to be _subtle_ , Varric.” Dorian said disapprovingly, frowning.

“I don’t believe he was trying to be, darling.” Vivienne arrived at the table, sitting down gracefully. She tilted her head towards the Inquisitor and gave him a sweet smile. “Hello, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

“Hello, Lady Vivienne. I slept fine, thank you.” He said before sending a nod towards her way. Then he looked back at his companions in confusion. “And what do you mean subtle? What’s subtle?”

When he asked that, he noticed that all of them had lost their playful aura. Even Solas’ quiet facade and Vivienne’s regal countenance had a somber air about them.

He blinked. “Uh, guys? What’s wrong?”

“Say, Droopy. You grew up with those two, yeah?” Sera asked out of the blue, reaching out to grab his soup and frowning when U’Din pulled it back towards him possessively.

“Yeah. I’ve known them since we were kids.” He answered. “They’re my best friends.”

Sera sputtered. “ _Best_ friends!”

U’Din frowned at her reaction. “Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Not that I’m questioning your intelligence, Inquisitor,” Dorian began, brows meeting in the middle in concern. “But usually best friends are, well, _nice_ to each other. Understanding, _loving_. From what we’ve seen so far, they’re anything but. Especially your First. For you to consider them your _best friends_ —”

“You only met them yesterday, Dorian. That’s not enough basis for judgment.” U’Din replied.

“True. But what happened _once_ yesterday was one time too many.”

“Yeah! I was _so_ ready to friggin’ punch Bitchy’s face in. Too bad _Bull_ had to stop me.”

“Like I said—you’d just make it _worse_.”

“What could possibly be worse than _that_?”

U’Din sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Look guys, I appreciate your concern, but what happened yesterday was... well, Ellana was just doing her job as the First. I made a mistake so she had all the right to tell me where I failed.”

“But did she have to do it so _harshly_? You had just gotten back, tired, and the last thing you needed was to be berated in such a way. She could have done it in private, too, but she chose to do it in _front_ of us.” Dorian asked incredulously.

The Inquisitor scowled and looked away. “Can we talk about something else, please? I don’t like talking about this.”

“Inquisitor dear, whatever is the problem? We’re only being worried about you.” Vivienne asked.

“I know. And I’m touched, really, but... it’s personal, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Your reluctance to speak about it only cements the notion that there _is_ a problem, Inquisitor.” Solas spoke for the first time after a while, earning a disgruntled stare from the blond mage.

“Solas, come on, not you, too.”

“I’m just making observations, U’Din. If you wish to defend your First’s unreasonable hostility towards you, who am I to stop you?”

“ _Solas_ —“

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about Bitchy, what about Mehammy? What’s the story there?” Sera cut in, cradling the side of her face in one hand. “I heard what he called you. _Vhenan_. Isn’t that some sort of elfy lovey-dovey word?”

U’Din’s eyes widened and he started gaping like a fish. He didn’t _mean_ to look so transparent, so _obvious_ , but Sera figuring _that_ out had taken him by surprise. Everyone at the table looked at him curiously, waiting for a reply.

“Now that you mentioned it, I _do_ recall hearing an old friend say that before.” Varric said, rubbing his chin in thought. His narrowed eyes had widened all of a sudden, and he turned to give the Inquisitor an almost pleading look. “ _Please_ don’t tell me that means what I _think_ it means.”

“What does it mean?” Dorian asked.

“Vhenan means _heart_ in Elvhen. It is a term of endearment for lovers.” Solas supplied, his face betraying no emotion.

For a moment, everyone was silent, seemingly unwilling to voice out anything—or _believe_ anything. But it was U’Din’s tired groan that confirmed their fears, and then began the avalanche of incredulous comments.

“ _What_?! You—You and that _pissbag_?!”

“Did—Did I understand that _correctly_ , Inquisitor? You and that Mahanon fellow—“

“ _Vishante kaffas_ , are you _serious_? _Truly_?”

 _‘Why the fuck is it such a big deal?’_ U’Din thought to himself irritably, rubbing a hand down his face. He braved a peek towards Solas and almost wanted to squirm under the man’s blank, yet piercing gaze.

Why was Solas looking at him like that? And why was it pissing him off so badly?

“ _Droopy_!”

“ _What_?” U’Din grouched, glaring at Sera.

“It’s true, innit? You and that Mehammy. You were _together_ , right?”

“Why are you guys being so nosy all of a sudden?” He cut her off, looking at her with an irritated scowl. He sighed and waved a hand jerkily. “Yes, yes, okay? Mahanon and I were together. We were lovers, we were a couple, _whatever_. But that’s all in the past, all right? Whatever we were before, we’re not that _now_.”

“Well, _he_ doesn’t seem to think so, if he’s still calling you that.” Varric retorted.

“I don’t really wanna talk about this, you guys. Can you just drop it? _Please_?” He practically begged, looking at everyone with tired eyes. He even turned to Solas, silently asking him to intervene because _he did not want to talk about this_!

The hedge mage regarded him for a moment before turning his head, “I believe we are making the Inquisitor uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s best if we—“

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not interested, _Baldy_!” Sera interjected, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You wanna know as much as we do!”

“A clumsy assumption. The Inquisitor’s business is _his_ business.”  

“But it’s mad, absolutely _mad_! He and Mehammy were—“ Sera cut herself off all of a sudden as she gaped, and she pointed a finger at U’Din. “Andraste’s hairy _cunt_ , that means _he_ was the one who took your—“

The Inquisitor suddenly banged his fist on the table, rendering the entire hall silent. Those who had not been privy to their conversation, namely the guests and servants who were also in the hall, had turned to see what had caused the Inquisitor to react so harshly.

Sera covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, _piss_ , Droopy, I didn’t mean to—“

“I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I have said countless times that I did _not_ want to discuss anything and yet you all kept forcing it. If you’re all going to be fucking _nosy_ , I refuse to stay and be interrogated.” U’Din said testily.

“Inquisitor, please forgive us. We didn’t mean to pry, we were only trying to—“

“I mean it, if you don’t shut up _right now_ I’m going to leave.” U’Din cut Dorian off, eyes glowing dangerously. When his companions nodded reluctantly and backed down, he nodded in satisfaction and finally, _finally_ ate some of his soup.

When the advisors and Cassandra arrived at the table, they were confused to see everyone so uncharacteristically silent—and the Inquisitor acting like it was the most normal thing in the World.

 

* * *

 

“U’Din, wait.”

The blond stopped in his tracks and turned to see Solas following him to his quarters. Usually seeing the older elf would lighten his mood, make him look forward to a chat—but right now seeing the hedge mage did the exact opposite. He did _not_ want to talk to anyone right now, especially Solas. And what was frustrating about that was he didn’t really know _why_.

“Solas. I’m afraid I can’t chat.” He said curtly, opening the door to his quarters. He started crossing the ramp expecting the echoing click, but it never came. Turning his head, he saw Solas had gone through the door, and he growled quietly in frustration. “Solas, I believe I said I was busy.”

“You said you can’t chat. Not that you were busy.” The hedge mage answered as he followed him up the steps. “Both of which, of course, are lies.”

The accusation made U’Din bristle. “I’m not lying. Who said I was lying?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to know, lethallin. You obviously just wanted to be alone.”

“Great, you know that. So why are you following me up here?”

“Because I will not allow you to sulk and wallow in self-pity while there is a much better use for your time.”

U’Din scoffed. “Sulk and wallow in self-pity. Is _that_ what you think I’m going to do?”

“Isn’t it?”

“You can’t claim to know what I will or won’t do, Solas. You can’t claim _know_ me.”

“No, I can’t. And I don’t know you that well, either. As well as the rest of our allies.”

“Is that what this is about? My refusal to indulge them with the secrets of my private life?” U’Din turned to stare indignantly at Solas as he pushed the door open, not bothering to close it because Solas was going to come in _anyway_! “Funny, I thought the Inquisitor was the one supposed to be asking the questions and _not_ the other way around. But I guess that’s just my awful luck, isn’t it? I’m not exactly _Inquisitor_ material, am I?”

“Being cheeky won’t do you any favors, U’Din.”

“Well, I’m sorry if my cheek offends you, _hahren_.”

“U’Din, desist this instant and _listen to me_.” Solas said firmly with just a _tiny_ hiss. When the blond just turned away and pretended to fix things on his desk, Solas continued, “I am not here to interrogate you or berate you for what you said earlier. I did mean what I said before; your business is yours and yours alone. If you wish to excuse your First’s repulsive behavior, so be it. If you share an intimate past with your clan’s head hunter, then that is also fine.”

“Mahanon and I do not share _anything_. Not anymore!” U’Din threw a hand up in the air as he growled. “And you say you’re not here to interrogate—so what are you doing here? Why did you follow me? _What do you want_?!”

Solas felt a surge of magic from the bed when U’Din shouted, and he turned to see the ocarina glowing on top of the covers. His eyes narrowed curiously, wondering what had caused it to light up. But then he looked back at a seething U’Din and saw his eyes glowing a vivid shade of violet. It didn’t take much to realize that there was a connection there.

“You are angry.” He pointed out, more to himself than to the blond.

The vividness of U’Din’s eyes faded at the remark, and he turned away shamefully. To Solas’ interest, the moment that happened, the ocarina also dimmed, though there was still an ethereal glow showing through the holes. He observed the ocarina, brow raised.

Interesting. _Very_ interesting.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“ U’Din cut himself off with a sigh and leaned against the desk tiredly, rubbing an eye. “Sorry. I think I’m just stressed out. So many things are happening and I’m just...”

“You’re just going to let them affect you.” Solas supplied for him, eyes trained on the ocarina. It started glowing bright again, but not as much as before. That meant—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” U’Din said gruffly, his back still facing Solas.

“Do you wish for me to say it plainly, then?” Solas said as he started walking forward. “You are being passive. You are letting these happenings affect you and the way you think because you haven’t the desire to do _anything_ about them. You’re just going to stand there, wallow in self-pity and bemoan how life is being completely _unfair_ to you instead of finding a solution like _any_ able-minded person would.”

Just as U’Din’s shoulders tensed, another surge of magic came from the ocarina, but this time Solas didn’t even have to _look_ to know that it was glowing. The hedge mage felt anticipation as the blond turned; eyes glowing an unnatural shade of violet.

“ _What_ did you say?” He asked, voice low and dangerous, as he walked closer to Solas.

“You heard me, U’Din.” Solas replied, trying not to shudder from the amount of magic in the air. From behind his back he made a small wave to form a barrier around the room, and to his relief, U’Din barely noticed what he had done. “You know, I’ve been observing you for a long time. I had wondered what could make someone as capable and skilled like you  be so... passive and spineless. I thought it was brought about by extreme trauma—like witnessing death at a young age or something similar. Imagine my _utter_ disappointment when I realized that it was just a case of juvenile bullying. Something that _you_ could do something about but, for reasons completely lost to me, you choose not to do.

“Is _that_ what you fear the most, U’Din? A pretty-faced woman with sharp words, a sharp tongue? I had expected something more.”

“Solas, _shut up_. You do _not_ know me well enough to be making such conclusions!” U’Din barked, clenching his fist and waving it dangerously near Solas.

“And then I wondered—how _difficult_ is it to defend oneself from _one_ person?” Solas thought aloud, obviously ignoring U’Din’s outburst. The ocarina was glowing so brightly that it was practically producing its own heat by now. “She doesn’t seem very powerful. She might be the First of your clan, but now you are the _Inquisitor_. You have allies, _armies_ that would do anything at your behest. For you to _still_ cower from Ellana despite everything you’ve accomplished so far, it made me think—“

“Solas, stop it—“

“You have this sickness that corrupts your body, makes it unable to heal normally—“

“Solas, I’m _warning_ you—“

“—so does that mean—“

“ _Solas!_ ”

“—that your mind is _also_ sick?”

“MY MIND IS _NOT_ SICK!” U’Din bellowed angrily. “THERE IS _NOTHING_ WRONG WITH ME! _NOTHING!_ ”

“It makes complete sense to me, U’Din. There _must_ be a reason why you can’t stand up for yourself, yes? Whatever Ellana had said or done to you simply piled up and made you unable to withstand any similar treatment, even if it was done with the best intentions.” Solas looked infuriatingly pleased with what he just came up with, ignoring the way U’Din fumed and snarled. “How interesting. I don’t know why I didn’t see the parallels before.”

“STOP MOCKING ME! THIS ISN’T _FUNNY_ —I’M NOT SOME KIND OF _THING_ THAT YOU CAN OBSERVE AND STUDY—“

“U’Din, I don’t understand why you’re so angry. We _finally_ have a possible reason why you act like this! Why you’re incapable of defending yourself, why you’re so passive, so _weak_ —“

“I’M _NOT_ WEAK, SOLAS! DON’T YOU DARE MOCK ME!” U’Din shouted, angry tears streaming down his face as the air around him started becoming _cold, hot, stinging_ —“I AM NOT WEAK! NOR AM I SICK IN THE HEAD! I AM—I AM _NOT_ A WIMP! NOT A _DEADWEIGHT_! HOW DARE YOU! _HOW DARE YOU, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU_ —“

The ocarina on the bed started shaking, and the magic around them started becoming unstable. Solas’ eyes widened as he felt a familiar _pull_ , and he gaped at the Inquisitor as he shook and screamed and clenched his fist and _wait, was that_ —

 _Fuck_ , he provoked him too much!

“U’Din!” Solas reached out to hold on to the blond’s arm. “U’Din, venavis! _STOP THIS INSTANT_ —“

The moment he touched U’Din’s arm, the blond screamed and the violet in his eyes lit up till the pupil was barely distinct. Solas saw that U’Din was attempting to use his left arm for _something_ , and in panic he collected as much Fade magic as he could to interrupt U’Din’s casting. Their magic collided, and both of them flew across the room, heads hitting the walls before they fell unconscious.

The ocarina slowly dimmed, and a brief whistle echoed in the room till it became silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...don't hurt me please. :)) So uh. Yeah. I think I've found a pretty stable updating schedule. I'm most likely able to update on the **second and/or fourth** Sunday (UTC/GMT+8) of every month. So that's like, two updates per month at most? Hahaha. Sorry. Busy with thesis. :P But at least we have a schedule now! Yey! (after 29 updates WOW)
> 
> As for this chapter... heh, the frustration has _finally_ caught up to our favorite Inquisitor! What will happen next? Well, you guys are gonna have to wait for the next update. :P The companions were also a _little_ nosy in this chapter, and I do apologize if you guys think that was too much; but concern + assumption that U'Din wouldn't mind = oops, we got carried away. And Solas being the butt that he is bit off more than he could chew. 
> 
> Hope you guys liked this chapter... even though I personally think it sucked OTL still, it has pretty important clues, so I hope it's still good. But I appreciate you guys still reading this, giving kudos and leaving comments. GOD KNOWS WHY BUT I'M SO THANKFUL FOR ALL OF YOU. ;____; don't hesitate to give feedback, because I would LOVE to hear what you all think! Thank you so much and much love from me <3


	28. Whiteout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter is quite emotion and feels extensive, so if you find that corny, well, prepare yourselves lmao. 
> 
> Note: Beta'd by the lovely Rikka, who's "too cool to have social media accounts," whatever that means.

_The Dalish clan below was in mourning._

_In the area where the elves kept their dead, several torches were lit but dimmed by shades fashioned out of large, light-colored leaves. They were positioned in a circle, surrounding two mounds on the earth. The clan’s members stood not far away, heads bowed and eyes downcast as they lamented over the recent loss. The Keeper, an old woman, stepped forward and placed two oaken staves before the mounds, and then offered a poignant eulogy that ended in her praying that Falon’Din would guide their souls beyond the Veil where they can rest._

_A woman hidden in the trees twitched as she looked on the ceremony, watching as each member of the clan paid their respects to the recent dead. Her eyes then followed the Keeper who was walking alongside her First, speaking in hushed tones. The apprentice held a bundle in her arms, and she often looked down at it in worry._

_The woman realized what the bundle was and smiled, golden eyes glowing in the dark._

 

* * *

 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you _now_.”

“Now, now, Cassandra, let’s not do something we might regret—“

“Oh, I’m very _sure_ that I’m not going to regret this, _Tevinter_.”

“Sparkler’s right, Seeker, no need to be _hasty_.”

“Hasty? _Hasty_?! You just offended the _Inquisitor_! In the span of a few minutes, even! Maker knows how you even managed to have done _that_!”

“Hey, don’t look at us like that! We didn’t expect Droopy to get _so angry_! Well, maybe a _little_ —“

“You didn’t _expect_? What, you just thought you could just pry into the Inquisitor’s private affairs and _not_ expect him to be cross with all of you?”

“Speak for yourselves.”

“What did you say, _dwarf_?”

“Look, I’ll admit that we got carried away. We didn’t _mean_ to ask him so many questions. Well, _Buttercup_ probably meant to—“

“Piss off, Varric!”

“—but what we did is no different from what _you_ guys would have done. In fact, looking at your track record, I’d say you might even do a _worse_ job than we could possibly ever do!”

“Why, _you_ —“

Leliana reached out to grab Cassandra’s arm before she could swing it at the dwarf. She turned her narrowed eyes at the Spymaster, but the redhead barely flinched. She just shook her head and _gently_ pulled her back, ignoring the displeased snarl coming from the Seeker. “He’s not _wrong_ , Cassandra. We thought about doing something similar, didn’t we?”

“But we would have been more careful. We would have eased him into it, not _bombard_ him with questions the moment we meet with him!”

“And that’s what they intended to do. But they got carried away. It’s _done_ now.” She said sternly. Then she turned her hardened gaze at the companions. “What we _need_ to do now is figure out how we can apologize. Lord U’Din is a quiet, unassuming man, but we’ve seen just how destructive his anger could get.”

“He _did_ knock Cassandra back at Haven with his magic.” Vivienne spoke quietly from the side, frowning. “This is dreadful. We cannot simply let this go. The Inquisitor should be able to control his temper, lest he cause irreversible damage.”

“True. With a temper like that, who knows what could happen?” Cullen agreed, nodding solemnly.

“Wait, wait. What are you all blabbering about now? _Droopy_? “Cause damage?”” Sera waved her hands in the air to get everyone’s attention, looking at everyone like they were mad. “Are you taking the piss? This is _Droopy_ we’re talking about! He wouldn’t—He would _never_ hurt anybody.”

“Not intentionally, he wouldn’t.” Dorian supplied, earning a betrayed glare from the archer.

“Not intentionally and _never_ will. Droopy’s not like that! He wouldn’t allow himself to hurt anybody, especially people he cares about! Like _us_!”

“Sera, we understand where you’re coming from,” Josephine began gently, _sympathetically_. “The Inquisitor is indeed a kind man, but he’s also a vessel of large amounts of magic. Mages who let their emotions take control can and _will_ cause destruction, no matter what kind of person they are.”

“You’re saying Droopy’s like some sort of _monster_. Like that—that _Coryphyface_!”

“Of course not! The Herald is ten times the man Corypheus is! We’re only saying that he needs to learn how to control his emotions. We understand that our guests may be adding to his stress, but he should be able to withstand that.”

Varric raised a brow up at the humans. “So you’re saying that he should let his First continue to bully him without standing up for himself? That’s kinda harsh.”

Josephine sighed and said, “That is _not_ what I meant, Master Tethras. We are not condemning him to a fate of resignation. Lord U’Din simply needs to find a less destructive way of dealing with his anger, and find somewhere he can safely practice his control.”

“Funny how that sounds a lot like _lock him in a high tower and throw away the key_ to me.” The Tevinter said bitterly.

“Of course _you_ would find something wrong with safer methods of practicing magic.” Vivienne drawled.

“And being locked away and ostracized from society is _safer_?”

“Shut it. Shut it, shut it, shut it, _shut it_! Enough about magic, SHUT IT!”

“Buttercup, calm down—“

“Why are you telling _me_ to calm down? Aren’t you angry about this, too?!”

“Boiling. But look, we can’t turn this into a _screaming_ match, so if you could just relax and turn down the volume—“

“Droopy is _different_ , okay? He’s not like those scary and evil mages who just want to hurt people! He’d never use his magic like that!” Sera yelled, clenching her fists. “Droopy saved my _life_. Just like he saved those templars and those other people’s lives! Did you all forget about _that_? You call him lord and Inquisitor and all that noble _shite_ but in the end you still treat him like piss! Like the way you did at Haven!”

“Sera, please, you must understand—“

“ _No!_ Shut it! Droopy will _never_ hurt anyone—especially someone he cares about. You hear me? That will never, _ever_ happen and that’s _final_!”

 

* * *

 

Solas stirred awake with a dull pain at the back of his head. He opened his eyes, hissing when he saw nothing but harsh, bright light. With care, he turned over to his side, slowly lifting himself up—but he paused when he felt grass between his fingertips. He opened his eyes again, blinking at the green earth beneath him. The mage sat up and gaped at what he saw before him—tall trees, entwined in crystal; thick pillars made of the finest marble, and; over the distance, towers of a familiar design stood. This place, it _couldn’t_ be—

Elvhenan.

He gaped at everything he saw. He was in Elvhenan. _Elvhenan!_ But not the clumsy, misguided vision of the Dalish elves; it was _his_ Elvhenan. The one he left. The one he… _destroyed_.

He stood up and approached one of the trees, relishing in the familiar texture of the bark. It was sturdy, _gritty_ like he remembered, and yet it was so... different. He focused his magic in his hand, transferring it to the tree. When the tree didn’t react, understanding dawned on his face, and he smiled sadly to himself.

It wasn’t Elvhenan; not really. The environment was familiar, but it wasn’t the real thing. It was merely a reflection of the once-great kingdom, etched at the back of his mind. In short, it was just a dream—a dream in the Fade.

Which begged the question: why _was_ he dreaming in the Fade? And why _this_ particular area? He had no doubt that this was Elvhenan, but this courtyard was unfamiliar to him. He looked up at the pillars and noticed the silverite owls etched on the friezes and frowned distastefully. Ah. This was _his_ territory, it seemed. That made it all the more baffling why he would dream of being in a place even remotely related to that person.

Solas’ ears twitched at hearing something in the distance. He listened closely for a moment, deciding that it was cheering of some sort. A celebration? Or rather, a _tournament_? That person _did_ have an unhealthy obsession with those.

When the cheering got louder, Solas decided he had heard enough; he was usually content to stay asleep and dream, but this was _not_ a place where he’d like to remain for a second longer than necessary. So he prepared to wake himself up, intent on getting away from this place so he could figure out what had caused him to end up in the Fade in the first pla—

U’Din.

The hedge mage froze, and the cheering from the distance stopped.

 

* * *

 

It felt like he’d been wandering for hours.

U’Din looked around the strange, unfamiliar place. He wondered how he managed to get here in the first place, and he wracked his brain for a possible answer. The last thing he remembered was... needing to be alone. Then, walking up the steps to his quarters, _arguing_ with someone—

 _Solas_. He was arguing with Solas. _Why was he arguing with Solas_? Then he remembered: _sick in the mind_ , Solas declared. The blond clenched his fist.

Ah. _Right_.

“Hello?” U’Din called out, his voice echoing in the empty, crystal arcade. He wrung his hand nervously as he looked around, growing more anxious the more he was left unanswered. He cupped a hand over his mouth. “Solas? Solas, are you here? Answer me!”

 _Me, me, me, me_...

He sighed as the echo vanished, and he resigned himself to walking towards the end of the arcade. Normally, such a beautiful place would inspire awe in him—so much splendor and pretty flowers and were those _owls_ on the pillars?—but the complete lack of people threw him off. Even the lack of _Solas_ threw him off, and he was the only person U’Din knew who could figure out where he was.

 _If_ Solas was even here with him.

Part of him wondered if Solas had purposely sent him here, (wherever _this_ was) and given what the older elf had said about him, the blond was inclined to believe that but—no. No, Solas wasn’t the type. He may have said those awful words to U’Din but that didn’t make _him_ an awful person. Right?

When he reached the end of the arcade, the walkways forked into two opposite directions. Both looked extremely identical, so U’Din had no idea which way to go. He was contemplating on going to the left when he heard cheering noises coming from the right. Tilting his head curiously, he followed the noises, hoping against hope that it would lead him to somewhere with results.

U’Din reached the end of the arcade and came across a familiar courtyard where an equally familiar crystal fountain stood. He squinted at it as he approached, and then recoiled when he realized that it really _was_ the fountain from a few of his recent dreams. Did that mean he was dreaming?

 _‘Well, that means Solas had nothing to do with me being here.’_ He thought to himself. And that also meant that Solas was most likely _not_ here, if he was asleep in the real world. He wondered how _that_ could have happened. Then, as if by magic, the back of his head started to hurt like crazy—and he paused.

Were people supposed to feel pain in dreams? Fuck, he was starting to get nervous.

Another wave of cheering pulled his attention from the fountain, making him look up at a tall, coliseum-like structure not far away. The cheering sounds seemed to be coming from there. He observed the edifice curiously, wondering if it had always been there in his dreams. It was tall, very much so, and beautifully constructed. Squinting a little, he could tell that it also had the owl motif going on, which he admitted he kinda liked. Despite its appeal to his aesthetic, though, something inside of U’Din was telling him _not to go there_.

 _Blood, blood, so much blood. And_ death _._

He shuddered. Listening to his instincts, he walked to the other side of the courtyard, looking around for any signs of people. Or bald heads. The cheering got louder and louder as he continued to search, making it impossible to ignore. The loud noises were like poison to his ears, and he felt so... disgusted hearing them. Flashes of people fighting, falling, _fading away_ filled his vision, and suddenly in front of U’Din was a warrior in golden armor, raising his sword so he could _slice U’Din’s throat_. Overwhelmed, he dropped to his knees by the fountain, closing his eyes and ears and begging for the noise to stop, just _stop, stop PLEASE STOP IT, YOU_ FIEND—

And then nothing.

U’Din panted as he held on to the edge of the fountain, tears streaming down his face. And then, like the water, the subsequent visions that followed the violent ones became clear, _crystal_ , and suddenly he felt like he was looking into someone else’s life.

_A large corridor, full of gleaming mosaics and crystal pillars, and a boy waving a small toy around as he ran, pretending to fly with it—_

_Wisps of white surrounded his hands as he stood over a fallen, older boy whose pants were ripped at the side. But strangely enough, there was no wound, no blood._

_An older man placed his hands on his shoulders, telling him to do the family proud. Then walking away, never to see him again._

_A uniform was placed in his hands, and his vision blurred with unshed tears because yes,_ yes _, he worked so hard for this!_

 _Then suddenly, screaming people, burning houses,_ undead _littered the streets and he was rooted to the spot in fear. His hands trembled as he embraced the little girl in his arms, his entire being filled with regret, pain,_ a thirst for change—

 _And finally, he faced a man in a dark cloak, with a black owl perched on his shoulder. The man led him outside, where there was cheering and fighting and_ so much gold _—_

“U’Din!”

Someone grabbed his arm, and the magic he had no idea was flowing through him stopped. And, he noticed, so did the world around him. The water in the fountain slowly came to a halt; the butterflies, previously hovering over a flower patch, stilled as if frozen. The colors around him also started to fade, swirling, leaving nothing but white light. It was so surreal, so nauseating—but U’Din was breathlessly thankful that it stopped all the strange visions.

“U’Din.”

His breath caught in his throat, and he turned to see Solas kneeling beside him; brows meeting in the middle, eyes clear with concern and _wow_ , had they always been such a nice, stormy blue? His lips moved, and U’Din was so out of it that he almost didn’t catch the words that came out of the man’s mouth.

“Inquisitor, are you all right?” Was the question that echoed more clearly in U’Din’s still-throbbing-head. “I ran to your side as fast as I could. It seemed as if you were in pain, and I feared that being in the Fade had somehow affected you horribly—“

U’Din’s mind stopped registering Solas’ words at that point. The dizzying effects of the visions had mostly disappeared, enabling him to remember certain things after Solas had mentioned the word _Fade_. Certain _horrible_ things.

He was in the Fade. He was in the Fade _because_ of what happened between him and Solas. And Solas said a lot of hurtful, _hurtful_ things to him, causing what happened to have _happened_ in the first place. Solas followed him to his room even though he _specifically_ said he wanted to be alone. Solas, Solas, _Solas_ —

 _His mind was sick_ , he said. U’Din moved his body away from the hedge mage, startling him.

“Inquisitor?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” He found himself asking, voice as cold and sharp as a shard of ice. He scooted away from the older elf, looking up at him with anger and hate. “ _Why_ are you here? Were you the one who put us in this— _this_ place? Are you planning to get rid of me here? After what you said, you probably want to—“

“U’Din, calm down, _please_. There is no need for you to fear me. Whatever I said in your quarters, they were false. I did _not_ mean them.”

“ _Harellan_!” U’Din suddenly shouted, and he was so angry that he didn’t see the way Solas froze at the term. “Liar! You—You said it yourself! You said you’ve been—you’ve been _observing_ me! Like something to study, to _scrutinize_! You probably just pretended to be nice so that you could get close! And—And if it wasn’t for that damn Mark you wouldn’t have even bothered to get to know me in the first place!”

“Inquisitor, _please_ believe me! What I did was to—“

“YOU FUCKING _LIAR_!”

There was a resounding crack, and then a thud.

 

* * *

 

Solas wasn’t able to dodge the punch that was making its way towards him. He only had time to show his shock before the fist collided with his face. Then, to make matters worse, the fist grew hot with energy that amplified its power, causing Solas to fly a few feet away. He cried out as he landed on his back, and he hissed in pain when he tried touching the burnt skin of his cheek and jaw.

Wait. _Burnt_?

Flecks of green fell to the white ground as he rolled over, and he recognized it as remnants of solidified Fade magic. He eyed the thin, crystal-like shells on the floor, then turned his head to gawk at U’Din who, upon seeing Solas’ stare, faltered and stared at his fist in horror.

“Oh—Oh _shit_!” U’Din exclaimed breathily, anger quickly replaced by panic. “Oh, fuck, _no_!”

While the Inquisitor was busy hyperventilating, Solas took that time to get his bearings. He coughed out the blood that had collected in his mouth, then wiped the wetness from his chin. He wiped off the blood mixed with saliva on his clothes, then patted his cheek gingerly to gauge the pain. It was still painful, obviously, but it also burnt his fingertips. It meant that the blond had _really_ wanted to hurt him, and the thought made him chuckle darkly to himself.

 _That’s what you get for underestimating the Inquisitor_ , a traitorous voice said in his head. He wanted to argue that he did _no such thing_ , that all he wanted to do was make U’Din angry enough to finally explain himself. And while the other mage had not done it _verbally_ , he pretty much gave Solas a pretty good answer—one that had been made clear since way back in Haven, and didn’t Solas feel stupid not to have remembered that, for all U’Din’s merciful and kind nature, the Dalish elf had quite the foul temper?

 _‘I deserve that punch for my stupidity alone.’_ He thought snidely to himself. He spat out another wad of blood-saliva.

Solas had been so immersed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice U’Din hesitantly inching closer to him, fidgeting and wringing his hand. He bent a bit as he took slow, careful strides towards the fallen mage, and he gulped before asking, “S-Solas? Are you—Are you okay—“

Solas held up a hand to silence the blond, the same one he used to wipe his mouth with. U’Din made a little whimper of a noise at seeing the smear of blood on his palm. “It’s—It’s fine. Worry not. I had provoked you earlier, and I had expected a similar response.”

“But—But that doesn’t mean I should have—oh, _shit_.” U’Din gasped when Solas turned, displaying the terrible gash on the left side of his face. He sat down next to the older elf and reached out, and in reflex Solas had slapped U’Din’s hand away. The blond flinched. “Solas—“

“I—I’m sorry. I did not mean to do that.” Solas said quietly, berating himself for losing his composure. But despite his apology, he eyed the blond’s hand warily, as if thinking it would curl into another fist as soon as it got near him again. He pushed such thoughts away with a shake of his head. “You need not concern yourself over this. It’s just a small bruise; it will heal.”

“But you’re _bleeding_ , Solas! And your face—I saw it and it’s my fault it’s like that!”

“That’s what happens when you punch with the power of Fade magic, lethallin. It’s not very hard to understand.”

“I _hurt_ you, Solas! Let me fix it, _please_!”

“It was not entirely undeserved. I had provoked you, said things that were untrue and hurtful. I am the one at fault. You should—“

“For fuck’s _sake_ , Solas, just let me heal you, _all right_?!”

U’Din’s eyes flashed brightly again, the same hot temper rising within. Solas noticed this and, not wanting another angry outburst, smartly shut his mouth. He sighed, nodding and hesitantly removing his hand from his jaw. The blond leaned closer to inspect the wound, and he swore lightly when he was done.

“Shit. _Shit_ , this is awful. I’m so sorry, Solas. I never—I didn’t want to hurt you like this—“

“Again, it was not like I didn’t deserve it.” Solas interjected quietly, transfixed by the hand ghosting over his skin. “It’s fine. _Really_.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” The blond bowed his head in shame, biting his lip and shaking his head in self-reprimand. “Shouldn’t have. I _shouldn’t_ have.”

He said that more to himself than to Solas, the hedge mage thought. Curious. Before Solas could think more on it, U’Din’s hand started glowing a pure white.

“This’ll only take a second.” The blond promised, trying to smile reassuringly but failing. “Just—Just tell me if I hurt you again, okay?”

The hand drew closer and touched his cheek, and Solas barely managed to stop himself from gasping. His eyes widened when he realized that U’Din was using _healing magic_. The warmth of this magic was so very different from the painful, scorching heat of U’Din’s punch. It was the first time Solas had seen U’Din use this magic, and to be the first to experience it—it was, for lack of better word, _magical_. Solas was no stranger to healing magic, and he knew they all had a warm, soothing characteristic to them but this was… different. Perhaps he was biased, but the magic stitching his skin back to its original form was addicting, refreshing; like a balm for the body as well as the soul.

And then it was over. Much too quickly.

“There. It looks much better now.” U’Din said, eyeing Solas’ face for a negative reaction. “Are—Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

 _Yes_ , Solas wanted to say, but he meant a completely different hurt. One that had grown cold and numb, quivering in the deepest, darkest part of his soul. He doubted that U’Din, for all his healing prowess, could heal _that_. But the mere fact that he could heal _at all_ still blew Solas’ mind, so he looked up at the blond with a slight daze to his eyes, “You can heal.”

U’Din blinked, obviously not expecting that comment. “Uh... yeah. I can. Didn’t I mention it before?”

Solar wracked his brain for the exact moment U’Din had mentioned it, and he remembered a hut in Haven, an argument about living and _fingers touching a smooth face._ He quickly banished those thoughts before they could grow into something problematic.

“You did. Back at Haven. I remember now. But it never really stuck, since you never demonstrated the skill. So I had forgotten.” Solas admitted. The hedge mage’s honesty caused the blond to smile sadly, even derisively, to himself, and he stood up.

“Yeah. Everybody forgets. Even me.” U’Din walked away a bit before sitting down on the ground, back facing Solas. “And what _do_ I remember? How to hurt the people I care about. That’s what.”

Solas frowned. He stood up, hand still obsessing over his healed cheek, and took a few steps towards the blond and stopped till he was right behind him. He broke the silence when it became clear that U’Din himself was unwilling to do it.

“U’Din.” He began, slightly discouraged when the blond didn’t even acknowledge him. But he had something important to say, so he continued, “U’Din, I do not fault you for what you did. If anything, _I_ should be the one to apologize. I had hurt you, saying all those things. I never meant any of them, and I only said them to get a reaction. It was cruel, what I did, and I am truly sorry for—“

“It doesn’t matter what _you_ did, Solas. I don’t really care about that anymore.” U’Din interrupted quietly, looking lost and defeated. “I shouldn’t—I _shouldn’t_ have let my emotions get to me. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. My Keeper told me to _always_ keep my temper in check and yet I’ve done nothing but fail her. Countless times.”

“U’Din, getting angry is nothing to be ashamed of—“

“It _is_ if I hurt people, Solas!” The blond interjected hotly, a pained expression on his face. “It doesn’t matter if my anger is justified or not. I don’t care about that! What I care about is what happens when I let the temper get the best of me! Just like—Just like that time with Cassandra, and with the advisors, and—!”

Solar sighed. Of _course_ he would still beat himself up over that. He wouldn’t be U’Din if he had forgotten about it. “U’Din, I understand your concern, but that was _months_ ago. They had already forgiven you for that, and they even apologized to you in return, as I had done just a while ago.”

“It doesn’t _matter_. I _hurt_ them. I hurt _you_.” U’Din turned away from the hedge mage just before a few tears could threaten to fall down. “And I even wanted to.”

Silence took over them after that admission. Solas sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose, unsure of what else to say. After a few moments of awkward gesturing, the older elf decided to sit next to U’Din in the white space they were in—and wasn’t that queer, in itself? They were dreaming in the Fade, yet instead of a clear environment or hazy illusion, everything was all _white_. It was intriguing. Whatever had happened to U’Din a while ago made him create this blank expanse.

But what about _Elvhenan_? Where had _that_ come from? Had Solas been responsible for it? He would have been aware of it the moment he woke up. But it was the most likely scenario; out of the two of them, only Solas knew what Elvhenan truly looked like. Though he really doubted that he, for all his experience and skill, would manipulate the Fade into becoming Elvhenan by _accident_.

And to dream of being in _that_ place, knowing fully well to whom that territory belonged at the time—he scowled. He wouldn't be caught _dead_ in the necromancer’s old land. He would have chosen somewhere else to wake up, like the Sanctuary or the field of crystal flowers where he spent most of his childhood. He eyed the blond sitting next to him suspiciously, considering for a moment that it had been _U’Din’s_ doing instead.

But that was impossible. U’Din should have no knowledge of Elvhenan aside from the superfluous, romanticized stories and legends. Even _with_ the brief description Solas had given him in passing during one of their many conversations, U’Din’s vision of the felled city shouldn’t be _this accurate_. It shouldn’t! Unless—

“Solas?”

The hedge mage blinked back to reality, and he turned to see U’Din staring at him in concern. “Yes? What is it?”

“Uh, nothing. You were just—“ The blond looked back at the ground. “You were kinda mumbling to yourself. But I thought you were talking to me, so…”

“Oh.” Solas said rather dumbly. Then he sighed. “I apologize. I did not mean to ignore you, U’Din.”

“You don’t need to apologize so much, Solas.” The Inquisitor said softly. Then he smiled despite himself. “If you keep doing it, you’re going to end up sounding like me. And wouldn’t _that_ be an awful thing? Heh.”

The joke was made at his own expense, and while it elicited a tiny smile from Solas, it made him refocus on the situation at hand. Them waking up in Elvhenan, and much less the necromancer’s territory, was alarming enough for Solas to consider investigating, but he could do that later; for now, Solas had a few things he wanted to discuss with the Inquisitor. Starting with the first question—

“Tell me, friend,” He began after a few minutes of silence. U’Din turned to him with an expectant look, and he continued, “What did you intend to do back in your quarters?”

What levity that had been present around them instantly vanished. The blond furrowed his brows and shook his head, scooting a bit away from the hedge mage. “I don’t think—“

“I will not hold it against you, U’Din. I just wanted to know.” Solas scooted as well, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let U’Din avoid the subject. “I understand that you needed space; that you wanted to be alone. But keeping your feelings—especially the negative ones—bottled up inside could cause great harm. Rage is one of the lesser demons, but as an emotion it _is_ powerful. Especially if handled carelessly by a mage.”

The subtle rebuke caused the blond to bristle. “I was handling it just fine. The only reason anything happened because you forced it.”

“And what assurance do you have that it wouldn’t have happened eventually? If not today, maybe tomorrow. Your First is here; one of these days she’s going to push you over the edge. And what do you think would happen?”

U’Din’s face paled, and a brief flash of fear showed on his face before he closed his eyes and shook his head. “That wouldn’t happen. It won’t. It _won’t_!”

“It already did. Only, the anger was directed at me instead of her. Though I have reason to believe that it’s been a long time coming.” Solas supplied, interlocking his fingers together. “Fortunately, whatever you attempted to do, I was able to handle it. You should consider yourself lucky.”

The Inquisitor scowled. “ _You_ would consider being stuck in the Fade a lucky thing.”

“Quite.” The hedge mage intoned blandly. “Speaking of, you had been in the process of summoning a large amount of spectral magic. Were you trying to use your spirit blade?”

“I— _Yeah_ , I guess. I did something similar back in the—err.” U’Din cleared his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. “I mean, yeah. That was what I was gonna do. Summon my spirit blade.”

“You do realize that you lack the appendage to be able to summon it, don’t you? You could have used your right arm for it, but the magic came from your left. Reflex, perhaps?” Solas intoned.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight when I did that. Blinded by rage and all that, right? I... I’m still sorry for that, by the way.”

“What would you have accomplished? Have you tried it before?”

“Uh, that’s—“

“Because if you had, it would be rather fascinating. Did you know that knight-enchanters need to construct a hilt in order to benefit from arcane magic? That’s what they use to materialize the sword in the first place. Arcane warriors—that is, practitioners of the original Elvhen craft long ago—also needed one, but the generals were powerful enough to not need one—“

“Why are you talking to me so _casually_?” U’Din cut him off, looking absolutely confused, and maybe a little upset. “You’re acting as if I didn’t punch you earlier! Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Should I be?” Solas countered with a raised brow.

“Well, _yeah_! Wouldn’t anyone? You should be! Angry at me, that is.”

“Funny, I did not peg you to be an expert on handling emotions.”

“Solas, I punched you in the fucking _face_. You should be angry at me or, or, punching me back or something!”

“Are you saying you _want_ me to punch you back?”

“ _No!_ But—But I wouldn’t blame you if you did—“

“You mistake me for a barbarian, U’Din. I do not wish to settle our differences with fists.” The side of Solas’ nose had scrunched up in distaste at the mere suggestion. “And I have said many times that what you did was not entirely unwarranted, and that I forgive you. Are those such difficult concepts to grasp?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re not angry at me for what I did to you, Solas!”

“Just because _you_ easily anger over the smallest thing does not mean I am the same!”

“YOU—“ U’Din bristled at the accusation, standing on his knees and looming over the other elf beside him. Instead of backing away, Solas levelled him with a sharp, warning glare, and immediately U’Din deflated. He sighed in defeat and nodded sullenly, looking much smaller compared to earlier.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. And I just proved you right.” U’Din ran a hand through his hair and buried his face in his knees. “When I get angry, I just... I cause bad things to happen and hurt the people I care about. I can usually ignore it before—this rage festering inside of me, but now? Now it’s just _so hard_. It’s like I’m angry all the time and I don’t know _why_!

“I need help, Solas. I—I can’t do this anymore.” He despaired, voice breaking. “I really _can’t_.”

Solas felt his heart pang painfully at how vulnerable and broken U’Din sounded just then. In that moment, it became very clear to Solas why the Inquisitor was the way he is—why he was so anxious all the time, why he avoided making big decisions that would make people disagree with him. Why he preferred to let offenses done to him slide, why he would rather take insult after insult than stand up for himself. In fact, it had become so clear that Solas berated himself for not realizing it sooner, for being one of those who were quick to assume that U’Din was _just like that_ because it was easier. How hard it must be, he thought sadly, to continuously wage a war deep within oneself, risking sanity in order to avoid hurting others—and to not let those others even know about it. It must be so tiring to constantly have to check oneself, become so paranoid that one began to question every little thing. And how tragic it was that throughout his life, U’Din had probably gone through all of this alone.

Alone.

U’Din had been all alone.

Like _him_.

The darkness that clouded Solas’ eyes had vanished at the thought, and within the blue-grey depts swirled a storm of emotions. He felt sympathy for someone who decided to carry the weight of the World on his shoulders because he deemed it a necessary suffering. Angry, another, that it had to be _U’Din_ who had to suffer when he was the kindest person Solas ever met. And then he felt… joy. Honest to goodness _joy_ because, in their shared loneliness and martyrdom, Solas and U’Din had become kindred spirits in a way.

Solas wasn’t alone.

And that is why he reached out, tucking stray golden hairs behind an ear in a tender, almost greedy fashion.

U’Din’s head jerked up at the touch, and he stared at Solas with glassy eyes. “Solas?”

“I understand.” Solas said softly, pushing back U’Din’s bangs with his fingertips.

“You… understand?” The blond repeated uncertainly. “Understand what?”

“Your anger. Your pain. Your sacrifice.” He supplied. U’Din’s eyes widened a fraction. “It is now clear to me why you’ve been doing the things you have, and I regret not seeing it sooner. I’ve always considered you a passive man, but now I see that you are simply doing what you can to keep everyone around you safe. Even if it that means slowly dying inside.”

His words had rendered the blond speechless. He blinked away the dazed look from his eyes, and in doing so caused a few tears to run down his face. U’Din grew frustrated, obviously unwilling to shed tears, but before he could wipe his eyes, Solas grabbed his wrist, pulling it towards him.

“You need not hide your tears from me, U’Din. I will not judge you for them.”

“B- _But_ —“

“Rise.”

“…What—“

Solas stood up and pulled the confused blond along with him. The hedge mage smiled warmly as U’Din stared up at him, and then said, “Close your eyes.”

U’Din blinked. “Why?”

“You’ll see.” He said, smile stretching at the bad joke. It earned a snort and an eye roll, but the blond acquiesced eventually. Solas then turned, looking around the blank environment they were in.

And then it started to change.

Solas imagined falling snow, clustered pine trees and a sun peeking through the mountains. He imagined huts enclosed in a settlement; a smithy, a tavern, a chantry. The colors swirled and became solid, and he blew out air that became visible due to the cold. He heard U’Din murmur behind him, having felt the wind blow his hair.

The hedge mage turned once the environment completely changed, and he said, “You can open your eyes now.”

 

* * *

 

And he did.

He blinked and gasped, eyes growing wide when he realized that the environment had changed. He took a step and looked down, perplexed by the _very real_ snow under him, and when he looked up, he jumped a few feet away. There—There was the Breach! Swirling in the sky like he had never sealed it!

“What—“ U’Din turned around, gawking at everything he saw. He focused his gaze on the settlement standing before him, like it hadn’t been covered in snow. “This is—“

“Haven.” Solas supplied helpfully.

“I—I know but,” The blond faced Solas again, giving him a questioning look. “Why?”

The hedge mage smiled softly at him. “I thought you’d feel more comfortable somewhere you’re more familiar.”

“Comfortable.” U’Din repeated, earning a nod from the hedge mage. He blinked at the settlement in front of him and frowned. “You thought that changing the Fade into the place that I had failed to protect would make me feel… more _comfortable_?”

Solas chuckled at his incredulity. “Point taken. But no matter the tragedies that transpired here, you cannot argue that this is where you’ve probably grown the most. In that case, Haven will always be important to you.”

U’Din considered the man’s words and found himself nodding. That _was_ true. Even though he still hadn’t forgiven himself for doing a terrible job at Haven, he had to concede that this place also carried good memories for him. Where he found helplessness, he also found an alternate purpose. Where he found difficult trials, he also found validation. He also met his companions here—his _friends_ —and where he met Sera, Cole and… Solas.

Yeah. Haven was important.

“So you’ve established.” U’Din said. “That still doesn’t answer why you turned the Fade into this.”

“If you follow me, you’ll find out.” The man said before walking up towards the Chantry. U’Din watched him for a few moments before following suit, silently admiring the way everything looked _exactly_ like it did at Haven. It was only when they entered the Chantry doors did U’Din finally realize that there was something strange about _everything_.

Weren’t Fade dreams supposed to be… hazy? Or weird-looking? And wasn’t it hard to change things here? At least, that’s what the books Lady Josephine and Lady Vivienne lent him said. U’Din hadn’t finished reading a lot of them, but what he gathered was that, while mages can enter the Fade in their dreams, it was very hard for them to change every aspect of the it. One would need to be a Dreamer to do something like this—but even then, it would take immense skill to do it, and even more so to change the entire _environment_ itself. He eyed Solas’ back with a look mixed with admiration and suspicion. He _knew_ his friend was a talented mage who walked the Fade, but he didn’t expect him to be _this_ talented.

Just who _was_ Solas, really?

They walked down to the dungeons and arrived at the cell where U’Din vaguely remembered being held in before. It felt so surreal to be here now, especially since it had seemed so _long_ ago.

“I came to the Inquisition on the day you were brought in here.” Solas began, pulling him out of his thoughts. “The Breach had covered the sky and inspired fear into the hearts of people, making them desperate for answers—desperate for someone to blame. Then you had come out of the temple as the only survivor, and the mark had branded you as the perpetrator in their eyes.

“I was in the area when the tragedy struck; journeying the mountainside for new knowledge to discover. I offered my services to the Inquisition, and my first task was to study the magical mark that had a unique connection to the Breach swirling in the sky.”

“Well, obviously it didn’t take you very long to figure _that_ out.” U’Din found him saying dryly. Solar snorted beside him.

“It took me longer than you might think. Its origin was unknown, its properties a mystery. Running tests and searching the Fade hadn’t been enough, and the spirits with whom I would have consulted had vanished. Soon, even _I_ found myself in a precarious situation.”

U’Din blinked. “Huh? Why?”

“Not everyone believed that I just so _happened_ to be in the area when the Breach appeared.” The man explained succinctly. “After a day had passed with no results, Cassandra suspected duplicity. She accused me of being an accomplice of yours, and it didn’t help that we were both elves. She threatened to have me executed if I didn’t find answers.”

U’Din found himself smiling despite himself. “That’s probably just how Lady Cassandra says hello to everyone. The first thing she said to me was to give her a reason not to kill me after what happened at the Conclave.”

Solas laughed, shaking his head. “To call us fortunate would be an understatement.”

“Anyone who manages to survive Cassandra would be.”

“Very true.”

Solas led him out of the Chantry, all the while telling him of the things he had gone through while sitting beside U’Din, studying the mark and trying to get him to wake up. U’Din had apparently been in a coma-like state, and even in the Fade he had been unresponsive.

“I began to believe that you were never going to wake up.” Solas confessed as they walked out of the Chantry. “How would you be able to? You were a mortal that went _physically_ through the Fade. The whole ordeal had almost driven me mad. I barely rested and ate. It was… frustrating. _Frightening_. On the third day, I lost hope—and planned to run away.”

That made U’Din startle. “ _What_? You did?”

A chuckle. “Yes. Surprised?”

“Wha— _Why_?” He found himself asking, wondering why the elf who had preached about sealing the Breach as soon as possible would even think about _abandoning_ the only possible way to do so. “What happened? Why would you ever want to run away?”

Solas raised a brow at him. “Did _you_ not ever think of running away before?”

“W-Well—“ U’Din blushed, remembering all the times he wanted to run for the hills, especially after a run-in with Cassandra. Solas had him there. “Well, okay, point taken. But the things you told me in Haven after I sealed the first rift—“

“Were said after a few days of careful consideration. You _were_ asleep for three days, if you can recall.” Solas said.

The blond sighed and conceded, though he still wasn’t satisfied. “Okay, fine. But where would you _go_? Wouldn’t the Breach grow large enough to cover the entire World?”

“Ideally? Someplace far away where I could research a way to close the Breach before its effects could reach me.”

“…Seriously.”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“That’s a _stupid_ plan, Solas. Even _I_ know that.”

“Well, I never said it was a _good_ plan.”

“Understatement of the Age.”

Solas grinned, shaking his head. He continued with his tale, “But I didn’t want to do anything too hasty until I had tried one last time. You were still asleep by the time I was sent out to try and close the rifts myself. I thought: _one last time_. Then I would run. But it was no use; no ordinary magic affected the rifts. I was doomed.

“I watched the rifts grow massive and out of control, resigned myself to flee after one last skirmish with demons. However—“ Solas paused, staring up at the fake Breach in the sky.

“However?” U’Din urged.

“You came.” Solas said. Flashes of a hand grabbing a wrist, pressing it into the rift appeared before U’Din’s eyes, making the blond gasp. The hedge mage turned towards him, smiling. “As our last _hope_.”

Something in the way Solas answered made U’Din flush in embarrassment. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “I didn’t do anything—“

“Yes, you _did_.”

“But _you_ were the one who knew what to do with it!”

“I _did_ study it, lethallin.”

“So that means I didn’t do anything.”

“Why belittle yourself so much?” The man asked, appearing right in front of U’Din. “Can you not see, U’Din? If you hadn’t arrived when you did—if you hadn’t sealed that rift, _I would have fled_. I would have run away as far as I could, away from the wrath of Cassandra and the Inquisition. And what would I have accomplished? Nothing. I would have missed the opportunity to help fix the world by choosing the coward’s way out,  and then I would have probably done something desperate. _Again_.”

The last word was spoken so quietly that U’Din barely heard it. But Solas’ admission, though very touching, had made U’Din uncomfortable. Was he trying to imply that it was because of _U’Din_ that they had made it this far? Certainly that wasn’t true!

“You’re just saying that, Solas. I’m nothing special.”

“I told you I didn’t say thing un—“

“ _Stop saying that_! This isn’t funny!”

“I’m not _trying_ to be funny, U’Din. I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Why _are_ we here, Solas? I mean, _why did you bring me here_?” U’Din  asked suddenly, sweeping his arm towards Fade Haven. “You had a reason for turning the Fade into this, and I doubt it was so you could have a backdrop for your story. What were you trying to accomplish?”

“I brought you here so that you could see how far you’ve come! How far you’ve allowed _all of us_ to come! And I wanted to tell you that…”

“What? Tell me what?”

“That you changed _everything_.” Solas said with a finality that took U’Din aback.

“Changed... everything?” U’Din clarified after a moment of quietness.

“Yes. _Everything_.” Solas answered, quieting at the latter part. His eyes had adopted a strange look then—sadness mixed with frustration, pain and other things that U’Din couldn’t pinpoint. It was… touching, in a way. And it made him emotional.

The blond bit his lip and blinked the wetness away from his eyes. “But what does that got to do with this?”

The hedge mage’s expression softened. He looked at the ground, melancholy in his small smile. “Are you so focused on your faults that you do not see the parts of you that shine?”

U’Din reddened. “ _What_ —“

“Tell me: do you remember the time you saved Sera from that envy demon?”

The blond paused before nodding, “Y-Yeah. What about it?”

“Did you hesitate to protect her when you realized that it was about to land a killing blow on her?”

“No.”

“Did you even think about it landing a killing blow on _you_ when you did that?”

“...No.”

“Would you have stopped to protect her even if you did?”

“Of course not! Why would I? Sera was in danger! If I didn’t do anything, she would have—“ U’Din paused, scowling. “I don’t want anyone dying. Not on my watch.”

“Does that sound like _nothing special_ to you?”

The blond didn’t answer, opting to just scowl at the floor. Solas saw this and smiled. “See? Even _you_ cannot deny it.  _This_ is to show you that you are capable of more good than you’ve led yourself to believe. That you are not _weak_ , that you are not a _wimp_ or a _deadweight_ or whatever name has poisoned your mind. Because if you were, you would have _never_ done that for Sera. You would have never led us this far. Yet here we are.

“I know you are afraid, U’Din.” Solas said, stepping in front of U’Din when the blond had turned away from him. “I know that you constantly have to look over your shoulder, afraid of your own shadow. I know that you have to watch yourself to prevent making mistakes; that you continue to fight that anger deep within yourself in order to keep the people around you safe. Yet despite all that trying, you still fail.

“You are no stranger to failure, but you know what? Neither am I. I too know what it’s like to be frustrated, to be afraid. I know what it’s like to _fail_. But if I had learned anything in the years that I have been alive, it’s that failing does not make one a failure. You know what does?”

“What?” The blond groused.

“When you _stop trying_.” He answered, smiling knowingly at him. “But I believe that is something that you already know. Because despite all your supposed flaws, you’re still here, are you not?”

U’Din scowled at Solas’ words, frustrated and _angry_ that they made so much sense. The man’s speech spoke so deeply to him, and he felt so validated and happy and fuck, _there was something stuck in his eye_! “But it’s just so _hard_ —“

“I know. I _know_.” Solas placed his hands on U’Din’s shoulders, urging the blond to look up at him. “I know it is hard. You’ve been through so much, U’Din. And you’ve been through them alone. Haven’t you?”

 _Alone._ U’Din’s eyes widened before narrowing in hurt, in _frustration_. He hadn’t always been. Before, he had Ellana and Mahanon—they would sneak in his tent and take him out to play, and they would hang out near the flowers while the Keeper watched over them. But things got complicated fast; Ellana started hating him, Mahanon thought him delicate, and the Keeper kept giving him pitiful looks. He wondered why, despaired over it so many times, but at some point he had come to accept his fate.

Thinking about his former best friend made him choke back a sob. Why— _Why did she change?_ What had he done wrong? What made her ignore him, not notice him as if he were dead? Why did she treat him coldly, and then harshly? He tried being a good Second to her, but apparently that wasn’t enough. She had left him alone.

_Alone._

“Were,” U’Din began, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Were _you_ alone, too?”

The man’s eyes flashed with something akin to hurt, but it vanished quickly. Smiling slightly, Solas nodded, “Yes. Yes, I was.”

Solas’ words were too much. They hit too close to home, and the angry, frustrated tears kept coming out of his eye sockets. He rubbed angrily at his eyes, and then gasped when Solas stopped him.

“No, don’t.” The man’s voice was firm, but gentle. Just like the grip on his hand. “Do not bottle up your feelings, U’Din. You’re just making it worse.”

U’Din’s bottom lip quivered, and he growled in frustration and turned his head away. However, his body had started inching closer to the older elf. The hedge mage responded by drawing near as well, and he could see the blond’s stubbornness fading as the mask shattered.

His eyes widened when U’Din suddenly grabbed on to his tunic, but immediately softened when the blond finally closed the distance between them, resting his head against Solas’ shoulder. He threaded his hand through the younger man’s hair, listening to U’Din’s soft breathing.

“She was my best friend, Ellana.” U’Din spoke quietly, barely containing a sob. “My... My _sister_. We used to do _everything_ together but now she’s so horrible and cold and I _don’t know why_. It—It hurts. I was so angry and scared and so _alone_.”

“I know, U’Din.” Solas soothed, holding U’Din close to his chest. “I know.”

“It’s so unbearable. Every—every day seems more trying than the next and I feel like my resolve breaking. But I still can’t get angry at Ellana, Solas. I’ll— _I’ll kill her._ I  _know_ I will, and I don’t want that!”

“You won’t, U’Din. I promise you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have faith in you.”

They stayed like that for a while, standing on the snow, exchanging silent woes and soothing words. U’Din hadn’t noticed it at first, but Fade Haven was quite _cold_ , yet staying in Solas’ embrace offered a warm comfort that was quickly becoming addicting. It scared U’Din after realizing what it meant.

But it was too late to pull back now. Not when Solas was pushing back just enough for them to be looking into each other’s eyes.

“Solas?” Came his quiet query.

“You know, I wasn’t lying when I said you changed everything.” Solas began quietly, sounding almost dazed. At U’Din’s confused stare, he continued, “Most people... tend to follow a pattern. They are molded so similarly that it takes quite a bit of effort to appreciate every single one. There’s... nothing special. Not anymore. I realized this, and in turn it made me hollow. Angry, even.

“But there came you: a man who was forced to save the World out of fear, but stayed because he honestly wanted to do good. There are very few people that I admire, U’Din, and it’s been such a long time since I’ve admired someone with such... _intensity_.”

The Dalish elf blushed at the compliment and looked down, fascinated with his feet all of a sudden. “I... admire you a lot, too, Solas. You’re really wise and skilled, and to be honest I think I’d be running around like a headless halla if you weren’t here to advise me.”

Solas smiled ruefully. “You give yourself too little credit, as usual.”

“So do you.” U’Din countered with a smile. “I guess we’re... both just really hard on ourselves.”

“Took you long enough to realize that.”

“What? That we’re both idiots?”

“That you are not alone.” Solas murmured, leaning down till their noses were practically touching. He was smiling. “At least, not anymore.”

U’Din focused on Solas’ lips as he spoke, and he was entranced with them. Looking up briefly, he realized that the other elf was also doing the same.

The question came out before U’Din could stop himself, “Can I?”

“Can you what?” He breathed, and the blond shivered when he felt the air against his skin.

Instead of answering, U’Din leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips against Solas’, silently asking. The smile that came after was delayed, if not slightly strained at first, but before the blond could pull back, the hedge mage held the back of his neck and drew him close.

The distance between them was no more, and U’Din’s chest  _burned_.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, Solas realized that he shouldn’t have indulged himself. That he should have at least waited, because _it was too early for this._ But the Fade made him more open, more _free_ , and here he could do nothing but succumb to his wants, pressing U’Din closer to himself as the blond wrapped an arm around his neck. There would be time to think about this—as well as a few _other_ things—more logically; more time to reevaluate his plans and decide where to go from this moment forward.

But for now, he allowed himself to be pulled by the magic of U’Din’s violet eyes and shy smile. And maybe, Solas can enjoy not being alone for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I've been gone for a while. :)) And for good reason! My mini thesis was... awful, haha. My prototype didn't make it in time for deliberation, so I'm held back a year. Yeah. Would have drank myself dead if I wasn't allergic to alcohol, so I kept myself distracted by playing the Sims instead. But I was missing this fic, so I decided to put this VERY EMOTIONAL chapter up for you all. Sorry if the content is cheesy :P Though I hope you guys liked this, despite that! Thanks so much for sticking around to read this monster, UGH. ;____;
> 
> My roommate/best friend has also decided to become my beta. And wow, she gave me quite the lecture. :)) Nothing bad, but yeah, she made me open my eyes to a few things after like, six hours of discussing the plot. The direction will pretty much be the same, but the pacing will be much better. Hopefully. Nyaha.
> 
> Also: YES THEY KISSED _FINALLY_.
> 
> Note:  
> Arlathan is just one of the Elves' old cities, but their entire land is called Elvhenan. I'm guessing it was some sort of capital, or the center of trade because it was so popular. Idk. I'm probably bullshitting things now but I guess you all expected a bit of canon divergence already, heh.


	29. Interlude IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude, but mostly because I had no idea how to fit this in the next chapter without it being too draggy/long. And I felt like it was better as an interlude, mehehe. This interlude is pretty important, so please read it even though it's shorter than the usual chapters :)
> 
> Note: Beta'd by my dear friend Rikka.

“Really,” Cassandra shook her head tiredly as the last of the Inner Circle left the War Room. “I don’t see why we bother bringing them along for meetings like this anymore.”

“Exactly what _I_ felt about it. But did you all listen to me? _No,_ because they _had_ to be included, Cullen, you said.” Cullen groused, sitting on a chair near the table. “They had to be present for the Inquisitor’s ease of mind. He’ll be overwhelmed without them, _anxious_.”

“It definitely seemed like a good idea at the time. And it _does_ work usually.” Leliana shrugged unapologetically, smiling a bit as Cullen sighed sullenly. “And this meeting _was_ about them angering the Inquisitor. It would be unproductive to have it without them.”

“Precisely.” Josephine intoned, ignoring the disgruntled look on Cullen’s face. “Although perhaps it hadn’t gone as planned, seeing as all we did was rile up a select few. Normally, I’d be happy that the Inquisitor had managed to inspire such loyalty from them in such a short amount of time, but it’s evident that that loyalty is blinding them to certain issues.”

“Such as?” Leliana asked.

“Well, the Inquisitor needs to better control his temper, for one thing. We all know what happens when he lets his anger get the best of him.”

“Some of us more intimately than the rest.” Cassandra intoned in agreement. Her words held no real hostility, though the corners of her lips sunk into a frown.

“Well, what can we expect? The Inquisitor never honed his magic in a Circle where the most basic exercises focused on control and discipline.”

“The Dalish elves may not have institutions for magical studies, Commander, but it would be careless to assume their method of training is lacking. Different, but surely not inadequate.”

“I didn’t—“ Cullen paused to sigh, shaking his head. “I apologize. That wasn’t what I meant to imply. I’m aware that the elves have their own ways of teaching and controlling their magic. Even the Hero of Ferelden had benefited from a bit of training from his Keeper before he was eventually grafted to the Circle as an apprentice.”

“You knew him, didn’t you? Ser Surana.” Josephine asked, after she sent Leliana a quick look. The Spymaster’s blank face betrayed nothing at the mention of the elven warden.

“Not very well. But enough to know that he was an all right bloke.” Cullen answered. Then he furrowed his brows. “A bit barmy, now that I think about it but—“

“We are getting off track.” Cassandra cut, giving the advisors a look.

“Right.” The Commander conceded, clearing his throat. “What I _meant_ to say before was that mages in Circles are trained to contain their magic from the very beginning. The Inquisitor’s training may not have focused on control, but more on power.”

“He _is_ a rather strong mage.” Cassandra considered, looking thoughtful as she stared at the table. “In the beginning, I simply attributed his skill to the power from the Mark, but now that it’s gone, it’s very obvious that he’s quite powerful. And he’s missing an _arm_.”

“ _And_ sporting a wounded leg. Which doesn’t seem to be all that wounded, now that I think about it. He walks with a limp, but sometimes it doesn’t seem to bother him.” Cullen added, looking at the table suspiciously. “And based on the reports from Sera, Dorian and ser Blackwall during their mission to the ‘Mire, he performed... rather well. Too well, for an invalid. I’ll admit, I’m a bit concerned.”

“That has me worried as well.”

“But that doesn’t mean that his training didn’t focus on control. Like you said, he’s powerful. Even if he hadn’t been that strong when he first manifested, he would have slowly gained power. His Keeper would have been a fool if she didn’t teach him, then.”

“And let’s not forget, we already have reason to believe that he didn’t have a very ideal home life. You _have_ met his clansmen, yes? That could be the reason for his temper.” Leliana added, speaking for the first time in a while.

“We have not dismissed that.” The Seeker said, sounding grave at the reminder. She turned to Josephine and asked, “The mages at the colleges have replied, yes? Are they going to send anybody?”

Josephine worried her lip as she nodded. “Yes, they’ve replied. A mage that has published several journals on mind entropy and healing has agreed to lend us his services if we are to require them.”

“Can he help the Inquisitor? Ease his... trepidations?”

“If anyone can help, it would probably be enchanter Amell.”

“He’s not going to like this.” Leliana sighed, shaking her head in resignation.

“Well, what do you expect we do? Just let him suffer that way? If there’s a chance that his behavior is brought by _anything_ malicious—“

“So what? That doesn’t mean we get to decide without consulting with him first. We should discuss this with him. Or did you forget why he had gotten angry with _us_ before?”

“None of us had forgotten.” The Seeker practically snarled, then looked down as she rubbed at the center of her chest. “Least of all _me_.”

Leliana’s look had softened at that, but she still looked adverse to the idea. Cullen had noticed the gesture and looked away, staring at the wall with an unreadable expression on his face.

Sensing the tension in the air, Josephine sighed and walked to stand between the two warriors and the rogue. “Perhaps we should end our discussion of the Inquisitor here. This is meaningless without Lord U’Din here himself, and he would need a bit of time to calm down. Fortunately, Solas had reportedly followed him to his quarters, so there is a good chance that he might be in a better mood come tonight.”

“It won’t last very long then, if we are to discuss this with him tonight.” Cullen pointed out wryly.

“We cannot dally with this issue, however. The sooner we can help the Inquisitor, the better.”

“For him,” Leliana began. “Or for you?”

Cassandra did not reply, nor did Cullen.

Josephine sighed again and flipped a page up on her clipboard. “All right, let’s see what else is on our agenda. _Oh_ , the Empress’ ball is only a few weeks away...”

 

* * *

 

Mahanon was lying down on a bed while throwing and catching a small ball in the air when he heard shuffling from the side. He turned his head and saw Ellana putting out the jars of U’Din’s salve on the desk. He blinked.

“You’re unpacking _now_? We’ve been here for a week now.”

“Well, U’Din hadn’t _been_ here a few days ago, had he?” Came her prickly reply. She started muttering under her breath as she rummaged through the satchel that they brought with them, taking out things and putting them on the desk. She patted the bottom of the bag tentatively before doing it more urgently. Ellana peeked inside the bag and tutted.

“What’s bothering you _now_?” Mahanon asked with an exasperated sigh, resuming his ball-throwing-and-catching.

“My knife is missing.” She grunted irritably.

“What do you need it for?”

“I’m cutting U’Din’s hair tonight, remember? I can’t do that without a knife.”

“Then why don’t you just borrow one from him? I’m sure he has some. Or maybe he can lend you some shears.”

“I don’t know how to use shears. And it has to be _that_ knife.”

The hunter frowned as he threw and caught the ball, wondering why his sister insisted on something so trivial. The ball bounced out of his reach, and he moved to grab it from the edge of the bed—

Wait. _Her_ knife?

His frown deepened as he looked at her back. “You’re not talking about the knife that he made for you, are you?”

She didn’t need to be facing him for him to tell that she was rolling her eyes. “As opposed to what? Some random knife I found lying on the ground on our way here?”

“He _made_ that for you. And you’re going to use it to,” Mahanon paused as he furrowed his brows. “ _Cut his hair_?”

Ellana looked at him in irritation and confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s _mine_ , isn’t it?”

“...That’s quite cold of you, Ellana.” The hunter said in mild disgust before settling back on the bed to resume his game. “ _Really_ cold. I dunno why U’Din still bothers.”

The First snorted and resumed her searching. She frowned as she inspected the pockets—even the ones that were too small to hide the knife—and looked down at the satchel with contempt. Where _was_ that thing? She didn’t remember taking it out at all during their stay here! Obviously somebody must have—

She felt a strange sensation at the back of her head, and she twitched in alarm when it felt _cold_. Then that cold feeling washed over her body, and she would have panicked if she suddenly didn’t feel compelled to—

The knife was in—

_A potted plant. In the gardens._

How strange. When did she leave it there?

Mahanon blinked when he saw his sister walking towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“Out in the gardens.”

“What—“

“My knife is out there. In one of the pots.”

“...Why in Mythal’s name would it be _there_?”

Ellana shrugged and opened the door. Mahanon barely saw the dazed look on her face. “I dunno.”

 

* * *

 

The Dalish mage ignored the looks she received from the shems as she passed through the walkway leading to the gardens. She managed to keep her face neutral even when some visiting nobles started whispering carelessly as she passed, but deep inside she wanted to tell them to fuck off. Rich, noble shems were no different from normal shems, in her opinion. They just gossiped more snootily and airily than the more humble shems. Not that many shems were humble towards people like Ellana. She wondered how many of them gossiped about _U’Din_ when the Inner Circle wasn’t around.

But it wasn’t as if she worried for him or anything. The shems could gossip about the deadweight as much as they wanted, for all she cared.

The strange compulsion in the back of her head led her to one of the pots and, indeed, after leaning a bit closer, she found out that her knife _was_ there. Strange that it was planted in the soil, standing like it had sprouted there.

She frowned. Did _she_ do that? She would never treat the knife so carelessly—much less _lose_ it in the first place.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” A soft voice spoke from behind her, making her freeze. “It’s special. Because _he_ made that for you.”

Ellana turned around and saw a pale, strangely-dressed shem standing a few feet away. The fact that he was able to sneak up on her put her on the defensive, and she cursed herself for not bringing her staff. She pulled the knife out of its sheath and pointed it at him.

“Who are you?” She asked evenly, not taking her eyes off him for a moment.

“No one important.” The strange shem said simply, shaking his head. “Do you know who _you_ are?”

The woman hesitated for a moment before stilling herself again. “Why should I tell _you_ when you won’t tell me who _you_ are?”

“You seem confused. About who you are.” He supplied, not at all bothered by the fact that she was slowly circling him. “So I thought I should ask.”

“Why would I be confused? Are you mad?” She huffed in derision, though a part of her was growing anxious at the shem’s queer behavior. Why did he sneak up on her? And why was he even _talking_ to her? “Who _are_ you?!”

The pale shem tilted his head slightly as he regarded her, calm and dreamy-eyed. Ellana’s grip on her knife tightened; was this shem a mage? There really was something _off_ about him; she could feel it in her bones. The air around them felt quite... Col(e)d?

“There’s no need to be frightened, really.” He reassured her softly. “I’m just here to help. And to... understand.”

“Help? _Understand_?” She asked incredulously. “Why could you possibly want to do those things? You don’t even know me!”

“You’re hurting.” He said as if it was the most _obvious_ thing in the World, confusing Ellana all the more. He lifted his face, and looked up towards the keep. “Because of _him_. And he’s hurting because of you. But unlike him, you know that he’s hurting and you know _why_. But you won’t do anything about it. So I just want to understand _why_.”

Ellana had lowered the knife the longer the shem talked, and now she was just very confused. What was this shem talking about? She was _hurting_? Because of—

Her grip hardened when she realized what he meant.

“Are you one of his new Inquisition friends, then? Come here to interrogate me, did you?” She didn’t bother hiding the resentment in her voice as she started backing away. “Listen, I don’t know what you _think_ you can accomplish by ambushing me here but if you do so much as _twitch_ before I—“

“Why are you so afraid?” The shem sounded absolutely confused, as if he couldn’t fathom why Ellana would feel uncomfortable around _a strange person she didn’t know_. She felt his gaze boring into him, slightly widening after a moment. “You’re afraid of _him_? Why?”

She froze.

All of a sudden, memories came coming up to the surface of her mind. Like they were being _pulled out_. A strange coldness rifled through her memories like a hand turning a page, and it ended as fast as it started. She heard a gasp and looked up to see the strange shem staring wide-eyed at her.

“So _that’s_ why!” He exclaimed, sounding elated and horrified at the same time. “You _know_. No wonder! That made you resent him, didn’t it? It made you... jealous of him!”

Ellana bristled at the accusation and growled at him. “What are you talking about?! What did you do to me, you, you— _thing_?!”

The pale shem shook his head. “It’s all right, Ellana. You were told for a reason; it wasn’t meant to undermine you or anything. U’Din’s just—“

“SHUT UP!” She shouted, collecting magic around her. “You know _nothing_ , thing! You don’t—“

“It’s _okay_. Calm down.” He tried placating her, holding out his hands. He slowly approached the seething, shaking First and said, “It’s not your fault. Things were just meant to be this way. It doesn’t have anything to do with your skill—or lack, thereof. But U’Din was meant to do _great_ things. Things that only _he_ is capable of.

“I’m really sorry that you’re hurting, Ellana. But you’re hurting him too by being like this.” He said, voice warm and soothing, yet made Ellana’s spine stiff and cold. He gazed into her eyes, pleading and hopeful. “You weren’t meant to fulfill that destiny—it’s _his_. So please, let go. For both your sakes.”

Ellana screamed, collecting the energy around her and putting it in the knife in her hand. It extended, revealing a yellow blade that she raised to strike at him.

The strange shem sighed sadly and bowed his head.

 

* * *

 

Mahanon caught the ball and froze, feeling a sense of dread. He furrowed his brows and sat up on the bed, unsure of what to make of the feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach.

But before he could stand up, he yelped in surprise when the doors slammed open, revealing a seething Ellana.

“E-Ellana?” Mahanon began uncertainly. He flinched when she shut the door just as harshly, and he stood up to follow her to the desk. He noticed that she was holding a knife, though it was strangely sizzling. When he recognized it, he exclaimed, “Oh, you found it! In the gardens, like you said?”

“Yeah.” Came her quiet, but strained reply. She shook her head and massaged her temple. “I—I dunno why it was there. Or how I even ended up there in the first place.”

Mahanon blinked. “But you left. You said—“

“I don’t remember.” She cut him off. Then she let out a deep breath through her nose and gritted, “I don’t remember what happened, but I’m just so _angry_ right now! This fucking place is driving me _crazy_! I hate it!”

“...Ellana?” The hunter stared at his sister’s back warily, watching her take shallow breaths. She _did_ look angry... but why?

He reached out to comfort her, but she turned around before he could do that. He gulped at the murderous look in her eyes that froze him on the spot.

“We’re leaving with U’Din _tomorrow_.” Ellana seethed, green eyes flashing. “Or Mythal help me, I’m knocking him out to drag him back to the Free Marches myself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO I'm still not over getting delayed at Uni! Because I just realized that even though I've decided to take a leave of absence (because there's no point in spending money on tuition for this term), I still have no money for important stuff like food and rent because... no stipend. SHET. HAHAHAHAHA. I can always ask my parents but I don't want to bother them, so I'm making that a last option ._______. So yeah heh, pretty heavy situation I got here.
> 
> I hope you liked this interlude even though it's short and it PROBABLY raised more questions than answered. Heh. I'll update again on the 30th with the real chapter, so look forward to that! :) Thanks for sticking around to read, and all comments and kudos are very much appreciated! :D


	30. Burns of All Kinds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't update this Sunday, so I'm posting this a little early! Think of it as a present for putting up with this impossibly long and dreadful story HAHAHAHA. I love you guys, seriously <3
> 
> Note: Beta'd by Rikka.

It was a nice kind of burn, U’Din decided. Nothing like the painful kind, like the one he felt when that piece of the trebuchet fell on his leg. It was more like... soaking in a nice, warm bath, or basking under the sun when it just rose in the morning. Or that feeling of being bundled up in front of a warm fire on a cold night, or that sense of purpose and accomplishment after helping people. He definitely felt the arousal, the _passion_ , but kissing Solas just felt simply... right. So much that he didn’t even notice himself moaning as the hedge mage pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around U’Din like his life depended on it.

But then he felt the hand on his back go _lower_ , making him break away from the older elf with a surprised yelp.

Said older elf looked dazed for a moment, but the wide-eyed look on the blond’s face made him sober. “U’Din?”

“I—“ His face burned with shame, and he patted his cheeks as he tried to _not_ look at Solas. “Wha—What was that about all of a sudden? You were—“

“Are you talking about the kiss?” Solas sounded surprised, but also amused if the breathy way he spoke was any indication. “If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who initiated it. I just simply took you up on the offer.”

“Not the _kiss_! You were, um,” He paused, still red in the face. After looking down at his side briefly, he shook his head frantically. “ _Ugh_ , never mind. Sorry for stopping all of a sudden. I didn’t mean to do it, I just... it surprised me.”

Solas looked like he was trying to figure out what he meant. U’Din hoped he wouldn’t; it would be too embarrassing to talk about, and it was bad enough that he ruined the mood. And that was a huge shame because he _enjoyed_ the burn, the lovely warmth in his chest.

The blond groaned and buried his face in his hands; fuck, he was such an _idiot_!

While U’Din was busy being embarrassed, Solas observed his behavior. The Inquisitor didn’t seem to mind the kiss when it first started (having _initiated_ it, himself), and he even seemed to enjoy himself when it started getting a bit heated. But obviously something happened that changed that. Was it something Solas did? Or was it just the blond’s insecurity rearing its ugly head again?

The hedge mage sighed and tried not to be annoyed. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t change the fact that the kiss _had_ been interrupted, causing Solas to be pulled back to reality. Or a different version of it, he thought, looking at Fade Haven.

It was probably time for them to wake up. He sighed again. _Oh well_ —it was nice while it lasted.

“Hey, Solas?”

“Hm?”

“I—I really liked the kiss, okay?” U’Din said quietly, ducking his head and sighing sadly. He kicked the snow with his good foot. “I would have liked to continue but uh, I’m just not—“

Solas’ eyes softened at the sight. Perhaps the blond had been just shy, and was horrified at himself for enjoying the kiss too much. Solas berated himself for getting carried away, too; he always found it difficult to control himself in the Fade. “You need not explain yourself, U’Din. I’m not exactly angry at you.”

“Yeah, but I ruined the mood. And really, I _really_ enjoyed it, it’s just...” U’Din trailed off, looking painfully bothered as he stared at the ground. Something in Solas’ mind clicked at the sight.

“I apologize. It’s probably been a while since you’ve been intimate with someone.” The hedge mage said softly. When U’Din froze, he realized that he had probably discovered the problem. “It’s all right, U’Din. Whatever it is that we started... we can talk about it, and then see where it goes. I’ll never try to coerce you to do anything you might not be comfortable with.”

U’Din _flinched_ —and wasn’t _that_ peculiar in itself? He would have asked what was wrong, but the blond forced a laugh and said, “Yeah. Thanks. It really has... been a while.”

Solas narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but the sheepish smile on the blond’s face was too charming for him to stay dubious, so he gave a fond one in return. He’ll try to dissect the reaction (along with the _other_ discoveries he made about U’Din) later; for now, they had to go back to the “real” world.

(He wondered what U’Din’s thoughts were on that. It would make for a nice debate, he thought.)

Apparently, U’Din had been thinking along the same lines, because he piped up, “So what happens now? Are we just going to... wait for this world to fade out? _Oh_ ,” He snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make that joke.”

“I should hope so. It was an awful joke.” Solas mock-narrowed his eyes at U’Din. But he smiled as he said, “But no, doing that would be a waste of time. We get out of this dream by simply waking up.”

The blond’s eyes lit up in interest. “Time passes by the same here as the real world, then? I’ve always wondered about that.”

“It varies, actually. Sometimes days would go on in the “real” world, while dreaming it would seem like it had only been minutes. It depends on how powerful the magic involved is, and how close to the real Fade one could reach.”

U’Din cocked his head to the side. “The _real_ Fade? So this isn’t the Fade itself yet?”

“That’s a matter of perspective, I suppose.” Solas smiled, secretly glad that the blond was more curious than doubtful. “Probably best discussed after we—

“ _Wake up._ ”

 

* * *

 

U’Din gasped just as he opened his eyes, sitting up and panting. He groaned and keeled over when he felt a splitting headache, clutching his head with his hand. The pain was so intense that he didn’t even notice someone pulling him up and leading him to the bed.

But once he was laid down on the mattress, he blinked up at Solas who just smiled down at him.

“It’s magical overexertion. I wouldn’t worry.” He reassured the blond. “You should be fine after a nap. And maybe some aromatic salve.”

“Aromatic salves don’t work on me. The typical ones, anyway.” U’Din groused, massaging his forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“Ah. Of course. Your _illness_ prevents you from benefitting from healing potions and the like.”

“Yeah. It sucks.” The blond groaned. Then he looked thoughtful. “But if you can somehow get me some crushed blood lotus in deep mushroom oil, I’d appreciate it.”

Solas looked alarmed. “Blood lotus in deep mushroom oil? But that’s—“

“Normally poisonous, I know. But it’s what the Keeper made for me whenever I had a headache after training.” He revealed.

“Blood lotus _can_ cause drowsiness in small amounts.” The hedge mage conceded quietly before frowning. “But in large amounts it can also cause hallucinations and hysteria.”

“I know. And I only found out what the ingredients were when I took a peek into the tent as she was making it. She seemed adamant to not let me know.”

The hedge mage seemed to consider him for a moment. “Strange how something normally _poisonous_ would work for you, lethallin. Perhaps your... regular salve is the same.”

U’Din eyed the small jar sitting on the end table for a moment before shaking his head—then regretting it. “I don’t really know what’s— _oww_ —in there. The Keeper won’t tell me. Though I have a horrible feeling that you’re right.”

Solas frowned, then looked at his right hand. “You really have no idea what it means, do you?”

U’Din thought he imagined the calculating look on Solas’ face. Normally he’d be more suspicious of something like that, but with a splitting headache, he couldn’t summon the strength to even care. Whatever the case, he knew that Solas was referring to his illness—and that was something he was _not_ in the mood to think about right now.

Solas pulled him out of his musings by running a hand through his hair, massaging gently at his scalp. “In any case, I’ll see what I can do about getting something for your headache. The apothecary in the undercroft might have some blood lotus and deep mushroom oil in stock.”

“Thank you.” U’Din said serenely, groaning as he enjoyed the feel of Solas’ fingers through his hair. He sobered a bit and looked up as the man drew back. “Solas?”

“Hm?”

“I’m... sorry about punching you. And getting us stuck in the Fade in the first place.” The blond said quietly. He shifted till he was lying on his side. “And I really did like the kiss. I didn’t mean to stop.”

The older elf blinked down at the blond before smiling softly. “We’ll talk about what happened in the Fade some other time. Right now, you should rest.”

“No really, I _am_ sorry. And I _did_ like the kiss, but—“

“I do not doubt you.” Solas chuckled. With a flick of his hand, U’Din was covered in his blanket. Looking down fondly, he added, “Now rest.”

The blond groaned, eliciting another chuckle from the older elf. When Solas turned away, the Inquisitor allowed himself the relief of closing his eyes, trying to ignore the pain from his headache.

(U’Din did not see Solas looking at him dubiously and grabbing the jar of his salve before walking out.

And he certainly didn’t see Shivehn perching on the balcony railing, glaring at the spot where Solas had taken the salve.)

 

* * *

 

U’Din woke up to the smell of burning blood lotus and deep mushroom—as well as knocking.

“My lord Inquisitor!” A rough, unfamiliar voice spoke from the bottom of the stairs. “A ser and miss Lavellan request to speak with you. Shall we allow them passage?”

His answer was a groan, but obviously whoever was down the stairs didn’t hear him. When the question was repeated, he answered much more coherently—though he doubted he managed more than a slurred “yes.”

A few seconds later, the door opened... and a familiar voice let out a disgusted noise.

“ _Mythal’s tits_ —what the fuck is that smell?!”

The blond grumbled and sat up on his bed, looking around for the source of the noise. He saw his clansmen standing by the stairs, pinching their noses and fanning the air with their hands. He blinked groggily at them and rubbed his eye.

“Mahanon? Ellana? What are you two doing here?”

Instead of answering, the First looked around the room. Her gaze landed on an oil burner next to the Inquisitor’s bed. She blinked at it, though it was hard to tell whether it was from confusion or the smell.

“ _U’Din_ ,” She began, her voice nasally. “Put out that flame. We can’t get too close or else we’ll start walking into walls.”

“Or jumping over the balcony. _Fuck_ , that smell!”

Still not fully awake, the blond nodded. He blew out the candle from beneath the bowl, yawning afterwards. He rubbed at his face, vaguely feeling signs of movement near him. When he opened his eyes, he almost jumped from seeing Ellana so close.

She folded a hand cloth till it was reasonably thick and placed it over the bowl, all the while keeping her nose covered. U’Din was impressed she was able to do that with just one hand—but then again, he’d been without his left hand for more than a month now. Still, it was fascinating seeing someone else do it. Even if it was someone with whom he didn’t really see eye to eye. Not anymore, anyway.

The thought made him somber, and it reminded him of what he and Solas discussed in the Fade. If Ellana would simply just explain why she hated him it would be _much_ easier to deal with it—

“This is blood lotus and deep mushroom oil, isn’t it?”

U’Din looked up at her briefly before focusing his gaze on the floor. He nodded. “Yeah. I was... feeling lightheaded, so I went to my room for a nap.”

“You call this a _room_? It’s twice as big as the one Ellana and I are sharing!” Mahanon exclaimed, though gladly he didn’t sound resentful.

U’Din flushed and shook his head. “I didn’t really want it. But the she—the _advisors_ insisted. I used to stay in a smaller room in a tower near the battlements. I actually liked that one better.”

“You have a nice view, though.” Mahanon said, going out to the balcony. It was only then did U’Din realize how late it was. “Incredible! You can probably see the clan from up here!”

Ellana rolled her eyes at her brother before turning back to U’Din. “And? That doesn’t explain _this_.” She pointed at the oil burner.

“Ah, right. Well, Solas came up to check on me not long after I’d come up, actually.” U’Din said, not noticing how Mahanon had turned around at that point. “He asked me if I was all right and uhh...”

“And?” Ellana prompted, around the same time Mahanon demanded, “What was he doing here?”

The blond looked between the two, wondering if he should mention that he had accidentally send both he and Solas into a Fade dream. Solas didn’t _specifically_ forbid him from saying anything, but then again it probably went without saying that he _shouldn’t_. And he doubted that either of them would take kindly to the news. Especially if he mentioned the kiss to Mahanon—who was already looking a bit too suspicious for U’Din’s liking.

That made the blond a little irritated; what was Mahanon getting pissed off about?

“He just checked up on me, Mahanon. He noticed that I wasn’t feeling well, and among my allies here, he’s the closest to me.” U’Din explained, frowning at the way the redhead scowled. Sighing, he continued, “ _Anyway_ , he asked me if I wanted an aromatic salve for my headache; I said yes, but that it should be a mixture of blood lotus and deep mushroom oil—“

“Wait a minute, _you_ were the one who said that?” Ellana sounded surprised. Even Mahanon was blinking at him. “How did you know that? Did the Keeper tell you about that recipe?”

U’Din frowned. “Well, no. I took a peek into her tent while she was making it for me a few years ago. She didn’t seem to want me to know, so I kept quiet about it.”

“What about your salve? Where’s the jar? Do you know what it’s—“

“No, I don’t.” The blond cut her off. When the two siblings exchanged worried looks, the frown on U’Din’s face deepened. “What’s going on? Am I not supposed to know, or something?”

Ellana’s face was perfectly blank, but U’Din could see that there was a cloud of _something_ forming in her eyes. She gave her brother a look—at which he scowled but nodded in acquiescence—before turning back to U’Din. “It’s not important. The Keeper decided that she or I should be the one to make your salves. We don’t know everything about your illness, and handling the raw ingredients might be detrimental to your health.”

“But if they _heal_ me, I don’t see why I can’t—“

“Keeper’s rules. She’s the one who doesn’t want you to know, so ask _her_.”

“ _Ellana_ ,” Mahanon’s voice held a warning edge to it, and in response the First just scoffed.

“The Keeper can tell him what he wants to know. If she won’t, too bad.” She said curtly. When U’Din opened his mouth to speak again, she cut him off, “Anyway, enough chitchat. I’m here to cut your hair. And tell you that _all three of us_ are leaving for the Free Marches. _Tomorrow_.”

“ _What_?” U’Din exclaimed. He didn’t even react to Ellana pulling him up to stand; he just gaped at her as he let her lead him to a chair where he was forced to sit down.

But the rough impact on his behind made him hiss in pain, causing Ellana to momentarily lose her cold expression. Mahanon freaked out and rounded on his sister.

“ _Ellana_! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I—“ She faltered, watching U’Din stiffen as he rode out the pain. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot all about that.”

“You _forgot_? You’re not supposed to be rough with him in the first place! His arm has a bruise, too—“

“It’s on his _shoulder_ , and I didn’t even pull that hard!”

“Still, you _know_ what the Keeper said! You were too rough with him!”

“ _I_ was too rough? That’s rich, coming from you! _You’re_ the reason why—“

“ _SHUT UP_!”

The two redheads startled and turned to U’Din who, to his credit, was able to stare up at them evenly despite the pain. His eyes flashed briefly, making the two stiffen in their spots. The action caused the blond to falter, however, and he returned to looking resigned at the floor.

“ _Ir abelas_. Didn’t mean to shout. Just...“ He sighed and shook his head. His plait had come undone at the gesture, and he looked down at his long hair forlornly. He didn’t think it was possible to be so attached to something so _trivial_ , yet here he was: dreading the inevitable. And for _Ellana_ to do the cutting—

Hair braids. Flower crowns that made his nose itch. _Laughing_. Oh, how it _hurt_.

With another sigh, he looked up at the First, “If you’re here to cut my hair, just get on with it, please. The sooner this gets done, the better.

“And Mahanon, Ellana said she forgot and apologized. So stop blowing this out of proportion. I’m not some delicate thing that would break easily.”

The side of the hunter’s mouth dipped, as if he didn’t quite agree with U’Din on that statement. But a weak glare made him sigh and nod in acquiescence. Ellana, on the other hand, just silently took out a knife and gathered his hair in her hands. The blond braced himself—then flinched when he heard the tell-tale _snip_.

Mahanon knelt down in front of him, forcing U’Din to meet his eyes. The other elf’s gaze was kindly, understanding; the soft pat on his good knee a gentle reminder of what was once a typical interaction between them. Before, the blond would have welcomed the touch—would have returned it. He would have appreciated the kind smile that he knew was there to distract him from the _snip, snip, snip_ behind him. He would have loved _all_ of it.

Except he knew that all of it wasn’t for him. Not really.

The golden strands fell to his sides, and reality pulled him back to the present. In any case: whatever he and Mahanon shared before, it was over now. There was no use thinking about it anymore. He leaned away from the redhead, moving his knee to remove the hand. If he heard the hunter sigh, he ignored it like he ignored the snips.

And then Ellana spoke.

“I mentioned it earlier, but Mahanon and I have decided to head back to the Free Marches tomorrow morning. And _you’re_ coming back with us.” She began. The blond ever-so-slightly leaned towards her, indicating that he was listening, so she continued, “You might have to inform those shem advisors of yours that you’re coming home. Tonight, if you can manage it.”

U’Din furrowed his brows ever so slightly before releasing the tension there. “Were you two really sent here to get me back?”

“Why is that so surprising?” Ellana asked, a bit dismissive.

“Because I’m just the _Second_. Clan Lavellan doesn’t really need me, does it?” The Inquisitor shot back quietly, and maybe a little _bitterly_.

“Of _course_ we need you, U’Din! We _want_ you!” Mahanon interjected. When U’Din turned to meet his gaze, he added, “And besides, that’s not really the point, is it? The shems promised that they would let nothing happen to you, and look what happened! You lost your _arm_. Who knows what you’ll lose next if you keep doing the shems’ dirty work!”

“This isn’t something that I’m being forced to do, Mahanon.” _Not anymore, at least_ , U’Din added silently in his head. But he met the hunter’s gaze determinedly as he continued, “There are rifts all over Thedas. And not to mention, there’s a madman out there who wants to subjugate the World. You really think I’m going to just walk away when I can help make a difference?”

“But does it have to be _you_? That Anchor or whatever it is—it’s in your ocarina now, isn’t it? Can’t you just, I dunno, give it to the shems, or something?”

The thought of leaving his mother’s ocarina made him incredibly defensive, and his eyes strayed to where it lay on his bed. Part of him wanted to run towards it; hug it to his chest to keep them from taking it away from him. It was _his_. No one should have it! _No one but him!_

However—Mahanon _did_ make an excellent point. He wasn’t necessarily linked to the ocarina anymore. Sure, he felt a pull towards it, but that didn’t mean that only _he_ could use it, right? It was a tool. _Anyone could use a tool._ So if his Keeper really wanted him back for whatever reason, then... maybe he really _could_ just give it to the advisors?

 _‘But why does the Keeper want me back so desperately, anyway?’_ He thought to himself, frowning. _‘If I didn’t want to leave, Ellana and Mahanon could just go home and tell her that. But apparently they have to bring me home with them.’_

Was the clan in danger or something? Why was he wanted back? _What were Ellana and Mahanon not telling him_?

His musings were brought to an end by a deep sigh.

“U’Din, I’m sure you’re aware of this, but you’re painfully gullible and naive. You think we’d let the shems take advantage of that?” Came Ellana’s voice. Mahanon glared up at her in warning, but she ignored his heated stare and resumed, “Everyone has heard of the Inquisition, and all the Dalish clans have been talking about you being the first elf that the shems have held in high regard for a long time. Maybe even since the beginning. But while other clans view this as a sign of real change for our kind, many think it’s just the shems looking for a scapegoat to use if this excursion fails. And our clan, being the closest to you, fears that may just be the case.”

“I understand that. I _know_ that’s possible.” U’Din replied, eyes narrowed at the floor. “I just don’t believe that. You don’t know these people the way I do, Ellana; they really _want_ to right the World and defeat Corypheus.”

“But what about _after_? Will they still call you _my lord_ and come to your beck and call?” Ellana asked derisively. When U’Din didn’t immediately answer, she snorted, “Don’t be a fool, U’Din. Shems have treated us elves like _dirt_ for as long as our hahrens could remember. Why would they willingly appoint one of us as the Inquisitor if not for some kind of scheme? I can’t believe you even let them fool you into this in the first place. You’re even more stupid than I remember you being.”

U’Din took a deep breath and clenched his fist. There it was—the insults. He was starting to wonder what had been keeping her. He thought back to his conversation with Solas and wondered if he should confront her _now_ —ask her what the _fuck_ her deal was and why she was being so horrible to him.

“ _Ellana_ ,” Mahanon began warningly before U’Din could even say anything. “How many times have I told you not to insult him like that? It’s not necessary _and_ it’s not true!”

“Don’t tell me you actually _agree_ with him, Mahanon!” Ellana exclaimed, and in the excitement accidentally cut the last long bunch of hair too fast, causing the ends to be uneven and jagged. She ignored U’Din’s loud protests.

“That’s not the point! I don’t like the shems taking advantage of U’Din any more than you, the Keeper and the clan do! But for _fuck’s sake_ , stop insulting him!”

“ _Guys_ —“

“What, so telling the truth is automatically insulting him? I’m the First! If he does stupid shit, I have the authority to tell him! And him allowing the shems to fool him is _fucking stupid shit_!”

“I’m not allowing myself to be fooled by _anyone_!” U’Din interjected, patting at his now-short hair as he stood up to come between the arguing siblings. He sighed and turned to Ellana, “L-Look. I get that it was a risky move, and I _do_ understand that there’s a possibility that you are right. But this is something that I _want_ to do—I can help the World this way. And if leading the Inquisition to face Corypheus is the _biggest_ help I can offer, then so be it.”

“You’re just being _selfish_ , U’Din. Perhaps being the Second isn’t good enough for you anymore?” Ellana bit out, glaring at him contemptuously.

U’Din felt his temper flaring, _burning_ , but he managed to keep it out of his voice as he replied, “Being the Second has _nothing_ to do with this, Ellana. I never complained about my appointment!”

“Then why are you going against me? Why are you going against the _Keeper_?” She countered. “If you really have no problem with it, then you’d be willing to come back home!”

“Again, being Second has nothing to do with this! I just want to help the World, help the _people_ —“

“ _WE’RE_ YOUR PEOPLE, U’DIN!”

“AND I NEVER SAID YOU WEREN’T!”

“THEN WHY WON’T YOU COME HOME?”

“BECAUSE IF CORYPHEUS DESTROYS THE WORLD, HE’LL DESTROY THE CLAN ALONG WITH IT!”

“AND YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP HIM? WHAT IF HE KILLS YOU?!”

“BETTER _ME_ THAN ALL OF **YOU**!”

The desk in U’Din’s room was suddenly knocked back towards the bookshelves, causing the three elves to jump in shock. They stared at the broken remains of the desk and shelves and the falling books.

U’Din drew back in horror. Mahanon stared at the blond’s back, fearful and in awe. And Ellana let her cold mask fall for a few moments as she mulled over her former friend’s words.

But it soon came back. Shakily, she put the knife back in its sheath and started walking away.

“Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t fucking _care_ anymore.” She snarled, barely managing to contain the shake in her voice. She nodded at Mahanon and gestured towards the staircase. “Come on. If the deadweight won’t come home with us, then let’s prepare to go back home. By _ourselves_.”

“ _Don’t_ call him that.” Mahanon defended, albeit rather weakly. He glanced in U’Din’s direction and looked like he wanted to say something, but he sighed and followed his sister. U’Din watched them walking away and felt fear.

Were they giving up on him? The thought made his stomach tighten in painful knots.

“ _Wait_!” He called out. Both elves stopped, but only Mahanon turned to look at him. U’Din grimaced at the ground, frustrated and pained. “Don’t—Don’t go. Don’t walk away. _Please_.”

Ellana’s head moved, but whatever expression she had on her face, U’Din could not see. “You made yourself clear. You don’t _want_ to come home with us. So I don’t why I should waste my time here.”

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to come home, all right? I do miss you— _all of you_!” U’Din cried out, looking like he was close to falling to his knees. He shook his head. “But I can do much more for the clan _here_. I can protect you all from _here_. Being Inquisitor was never my first choice—but I’ll carry any burden if it means I can make the World a better place for the clan. For _everyone_!

“I know you think I’m weak and stupid and useless. I _don’t_ know _why_ , but whatever motivation you have, I can—I can _respect_ it.” He hung his head, sounding utterly defeated. “But if you’re ever going to believe in _one_ thing I say for the rest of our lives, let it be this: everything I do, I do for the good of the clan.”

The air in U’Din’s quarters was tense and cold, and the only sounds came from outside the Inquisitor’s balcony windows—muffled chatter and blowing winds. U’Din could also swear that he heard Ellana take in a shaky breath, but he could be wrong.

“I’m not the one you have to explain yourself to, U’Din. Like I said, I don’t _care_.” Ellana said dismissively, though her tone lacked the usual biting edge to it. She just sounded tired. _Resigned_. It sounded familiar to U’Din’s ears. “Do whatever you want. If you want to throw your _life_ away for a bunch of shems who don’t even care about you—if you want to ignore the calls of the clan that sheltered you, and the Keeper who _took care of you and raised you_ , then I won’t stop you. Just don’t come crying to me when they finally betray you.

“But I swear, if you cause any sort of danger for the clan—for _any_ of us,” Ellana turned around this time, her eyes hard and full of contempt. The look was scalding, _burning._ “I will personally _destroy you_.”

U’Din watched in mute horror as Ellana finally left, followed shortly by a reluctant Mahanon who forced a smile his way before disappearing down the stairs. When the door slammed shut, the Inquisitor finally allowed himself to fall to the ground, curling onto himself and shaking.

A while later, U’Din rose and walked over to the bed where the ocarina lay. He put the rope around his neck and, after taking a deep breath, walked out of his chambers.

 

* * *

 

Josephine was conversing with a dignitary from Ferelden when she heard the door to the Inquisitor’s chambers open. When she saw him walking out, she beamed and bowed to the dignitary, telling him to enjoy supper and the rest of the evening. After separating from him, she started walking towards the Inquisitor, intent on greeting him amiably.

But when she saw the haunted look on his face, the smile on her face fell.

“Inquisitor?” The Ambassador began warily. When his eyes rose to met hers, she realized that they were glassy and swollen. Josephine grew more and more alarmed by the second. “Inquisitor, are you ill? Do you—wait, has your hair gotten _shorter_? Did you have a haircut? But the left side is a _mess_ , who did—oh, what am I _saying_?

“Do you need a healer? I’m sure we can have some take a look at you. Or perhaps you’d rather have Solas do it? He was just nearby—“

“War Room.”

“What?”

“I said War Room.” U’Din repeated patiently. He walked past the confused Antivan and headed to her office—no doubt on his way to the War Room. “Call the other advisors. I need to speak with you all.”

Josephine hesitated. “But Lord U’Din—“

“ _Now_.”

The finality in his tone made her wince. He looked regretful immediately after, and he bowed slightly in apology. She watched silently as he walked away and disappeared behind the door to her office.

Josephine looked around to see if any of their guests noticed that spectacle, and sure enough a pair of Orlesian visitors were looking in her direction. The Ambassador put on her diplomat smile and informed them that the Inquisitor simply had a spontaneous idea about the upcoming ball—which the guests received with carefully veiled interest. Afterwards, Josephine reached out to a nearby group of servants and told them to send messages to the other advisors.

“The Inquisitor has requested their immediate presence in the War Room, so they need to be informed swiftly. _But_ as discreetly as possible, if you please.”

The servants nodded and quickly, but subtly, shuffled out of the halls. Josephine watched as all three servants disappeared, and she let out a breath that she had no idea she was holding.

What was wrong with the Inquisitor _this_ time? Was he still angry about what Varric, Dorian and Sera did earlier? Or was his foul mood the result of his clansmen visiting him a while ago? The guards did mention that they had heard shouting.

She sighed and went back to her office. Maybe she could ease the stress by pla— _looking_ at her doll collection while waiting for the others.

 

* * *

 

Solas’ hand movements were mechanical as he laid the paint on the wet plaster on the wall. His mind was too busy, too _messy_ for him to be as meticulous as usual when painting his frescoes—which was funny because the reason why he started painting was to _clear_ his stuffy head. It worked for the first three frescoes, but now it was just making him frustrated.

Especially since his portrayal of Corypheus wasn’t coming out as well as he’d envisioned it. He sighed and finished the black silhouette of the villain—oh well. He’ll just make it seem like he was looming over the burning village of Haven. Then add the orb at the top—

“That’s a really nice [painting](http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/dragonage/images/9/9b/Inquisition_fresco_4.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20141216192108), Solas.”

He lifted the brush from the wall and looked behind him. Cole was sitting on his desk, as he was wont to do at times. He smiled softly and returned to the wall, kneeling so he could make nice, textured details on the moon behind Corypheus.

(Let it not be said that Solas never made an effort, despite his distracted state.)

“Do you really think so? It’s not as detailed as the first three.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Was Cole’s simple reply. He jumped off the desk and approached the platform which supported Solas up high. He cocked his head to the side. “Was Corypheus that big? He makes the mountains look so _tiny_!”

Solas chuckled at the spirit’s innocent remark. “It’s just my interpretation, Cole. Corypheus may not be as tall in real life, but the threat he poses to the World might as well have made him so.”

“Yes. He felt really tall too, in person. Back then.” Cole said, eyes going glazy. “Hovering over Haven, head up high and proud as the pile of bodies behind him. He steps on the pile, stands at the top where he is tall. The sky is red and angry, like the Venatori are red and angry. So red. So _angry_.”

“I take it that you approve, then?” Solas smiled over his shoulder.

Cole nodded, hat bobbing up and down as he did. “Can I help? Or watch?”

“You can do any of those things, Cole.” The hedge mage answered amiably. “I definitely welcome both.”

“I’ll do both, then.”

In a span of a second, Cole was suddenly beside him. Fortunately, Solas was already used to the spirit’s sudden appearances, so he just smiled at his friend before resuming with his fresco. Cole picked up a brush and copied Solas’ movements—pausing only when Solas did, just to watch the elf mix and create the pigments. This continued until Solas finished the wet parts of the wall, and Cole blinked at the blank space behind Corypheus and the mountains.

“You’re not going to finish?” He asked.

“I think I’ve made good enough progress for now. I’ll need time to think about what to do with the background.” Solas said as he wiped his hands with a cloth. He went down the ladder and was not surprised to see Cole already waiting for him at the bottom.

“It’s nice that you’re doing this, Solas.” Cole spoke sincerely, smiling. “Everyone likes what you’re doing, even though they don’t know why. The servants like that they don’t have to clean up the walls here. The scouts like looking at the colors as they pass through. Dorian thinks they’re a bit gloomy, but thinks you’re a great artist. Leliana likes that they all connect.”

“Because they do.” Solas said, ignoring all the other things that Cole mentioned. “Every action that the Inquisitor has taken so far has led us all up to this point. His decisions, his _deeds_ will shape history as we know it. And he is far from done.”

The spirit sighed, looking sad all of a sudden. “No. And maybe he never will be.”

Solas raised a brow at Cole for that comment, watching as the spirit sat on his desk. Curious, he followed him and asked, “What’s wrong, Cole? Is something bothering you?”

“No. Yes. _Kind of_.” The spirit said indecisively. He shook his head and said, “U’Din is doing great things but he himself is not _doing_ great. He listens to others but he himself refuses to _listen_. He helps others... but he _himself_ needs help. I want to help him, but I can’t do much. I promised not to.

“He’s—He’s broken. You know? I know. I know _everything_. Yet I can only do _nothing_.” There was a glow in the spirit’s eyes—and a chill in the air around them. Cole was oblivious to Solas’ alarm. “It’s so hard—I want to help him, but—but I promised. I _promised_. Not too much. Because what comes, _comes_. But I—I can still hear the hurt screaming inside and it _echoes_ —“

“Cole?” Solas asked uneasily, watching as Cole cut himself off and started to rock back and forth, breathing heavily and muttering things to himself. He never saw the spirit act this way before—not since their argument from before. But the pale man looked a lot worse now.

“I—I’m _sorry_.” Cole stilled and lifted his legs to tuck under him. He played with his fingers. “I just want to help him. Helping others helps sometimes, but helping him would help me a lot more. Because I can feel his hurt from miles away. It ripples, reaches out towards me. But I’m a rock, sunk under the sea. I can do nothing.”

“Why _don’t_ you help him?” Solas asked, sitting on the desk beside the spirit. “You keep telling me how much he’s hurting. And you’re Compassion—you exist to _help_ others. Why won’t you do that for him?”

“Because I promised.” Cole said simply. Before Solas could ask what _that_ meant, the spirit looked at him and shot back, “But why don’t _you_? You worry about him, too. I sensed your pain and followed it here.”

Ah—was _that_ why Cole visited him tonight? He usually never had a motive, but Solas should have known he would have attracted the spirit’s attention, given what the subject of his recent thoughts were. Or rather, _who_. And such a subject was too sensitive to be discussed out in the open.

He stood up and gestured the spirit to follow him. “Come. Let’s speak somewhere more private. The walls have ears.”

“And the skies have eyes.” Cole added, though he did not protest. He followed Solas out through the door leading to the bridge outside.

The mage frowned. Yes, that was true. The moon was already high in the sky, but there were still a few people out and about. No matter. Whatever they saw, they would think of it as the elf apostate taking a stroll, needing a bit of fresh air. And something told him that he’d need it anyway, judging by how their _last_ conversation about U’Din turned out.

Solas sighed. He didn’t know why Cole was so fixated on U’Din (aside from being someone he wanted _desperately_ to help), but it apparently made him hyper-aware of people who were worried about him. But why _him_? He wasn’t the only one who was concerned about U’Din, surely?

“You’re right. Everyone in the Inner Circle worries from time to time. Some more than the others.” Cole answered his thoughts. “But your worries are louder. Laden with painful thoughts. Laced with pleasant things. You can’t wrap your head around him because _he’s_ wrapped around your head. The ribbons are violet—like his eyes. Taut and tight, tangled and twisted—so much that you don’t know which end to pull to loosen it. Or if you even want to.”

Solas frowned. What was Cole trying to say? That he was—what, _obsessed_ with U’Din? Concerned, sure. And suspicious, considering what he had seen and learned about the Dalish so far. The look in his eyes became distant as he recalled their encounter in the Fade; from the revived Haven, to the blank whiteness, to the once glorious kingdom of Elvhenan. _Exactly_ how Solas remembered it.

But _how_ did that dream come to be? The only explanation would have been Solas’ own manipulations—but he wasn’t powerful enough to do it intuitively. Not anymore. Which left U’Din to be the one responsible for it. But that was _impossible_! Unless...

The ancient elf sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. No, no, he couldn’t afford to get excited about the thought, the idea of U’Din being— _no_! It was _impossible_! It was too perfect! But... But if it were _true_ —

If it were true, then Solas really, _really_ had to get U’Din on his side.

Cole made an uncomfortable noise beside him, catching his attention. The spirit looked at him sadly and said, “You’re thinking about using him again. Please stop that.”

“I don’t intend to _use_ him, Cole.” Solas clarified, his voice coming out as breathy. “I simply... want him on my side. More so if my theory proves accurate.”

“But you’re going to lie to him. Like _they_ lie to him. And they make a big part of the hurt.” The spirit sounded disapproving. “Don’t be part of the hurt, Solas. _Please_.”

“We’ve discussed this before, Cole. I’m sorry, but this is something that I must do.”

“Why? Why must you _lie_ to him to do this? You _like_ him. You—You kissed him!”

Solas sighed. If he were anyone else, he’d be embarrassed that Cole knew about that. But a spirit like him had the ability to access his hurt—memories, emotions, _thoughts_. And similarly, they had access to anything that might help them alleviate that hurt. He was not surprised that Cole would think to use that memory to dissuade him; only that it was _working_.

No, Solas did _not_ want to manipulate U’Din, or lie to him to have him on his side when Corypheus is finally defeated. But he had to. He _had_ to. There was no other way to guarantee the success of his mission.

“You could just _tell_ him.” Cole urged. “Tell him the truth. About the Veil, the rebellion, the orb.”

“I cannot.” _Not yet, anyway._ Solas pursed his lips and folded his arms behind him as he looked up at the moon. “It’s a huge risk—one I’m not willing to take. No matter what happens, I _must_ see this through. And revealing the truth to U’Din may cause complications that could have been avoided.”

“He wouldn’t turn on you.” The spirit said. “He likes you—looks up to you. You’ll have to explain it to him probably, but he’ll _never_ betray you.”

“You sound so sure.” Solas observed.

“Because I know he wouldn’t.” Cole said determinedly.

Solas looked thoughtful at that. He eyed the spirit with a curious gleam. “How much do you know about U’Din, Cole? In terms of his history?”

Cole blinked. “His history?”

“His past. _You_ must be aware.” The elf mage supplied.

“...Maybe.” The spirit said vaguely. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the floor. “I know what you’re thinking, Solas. Sorry, I can’t tell you. I promised not to.”

“You keep saying that, Cole. What did you promise not to do?”

“I promised not to... interfere. And to tell anyone the truth.” Cole replied. “And I’m only telling you because you’re my friend, Solas. But I can’t tell you more than that. I’m sorry.”

“But to _whom_ did you promise—“

“ _Solas?_ ”

Solas barely stopped himself from jumping in shock. He turned and saw Cassandra walking out of the atrium, and she was looking more solemn than usual. He turned back to the spot where Cole stood, but found nothing there.

He sighed. So much for getting answers tonight.

“You’re here. _Good_.” Cassandra said as she approached him. “I didn’t see you in the rotunda, so I went to tell Dorian the news first. Fortunately I had the foresight to check out here.”

“Cassandra,” He began politely, folding his arms behind him and nodding. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Seeker’s brows furrowed—a tell-tale sign that something had happened that was not to her liking. Which meant... almost everything that everyone did. “The Inquisitor had called an impromptu meeting with the advisors a while ago. He had... a request. A request that we _very reluctantly_ fulfilled.”

Solas’ brow shot up. That sounded rather ominous. “And what is this request about?”

“He seeks to visit his clan in the Free Marches. And he was very adamant that we _allowed_ him to.” She supplied, the corner of her mouth dipping in displeasure. “We thought that he wanted to leave the Inquisition, so things got heated a bit but... he assured us that he simply wanted to escort his clansmen back himself. And to check on his clan. That it was the _least_ he could do, considering he was going against his Keeper’s orders.”

“I see.” Solas intoned, frowning. That sounded _very_ U’Din, all right—but at the same time, it did not. It was one thing to _want_ to check on his clan... but being the kind of person he was, the blond would never call a _meeting_ to actually _do_ it. He knew U’Din enough to know _that_ , anyway.

“What had prompted this desire?” He asked. “It seemed rather out of the blue.”

“That was what we thought as well. We were all sure that the Inquisitor understood that he was needed here. And perhaps he does. _However_ ,” Cassandra paused, glaring down at the lower courtyard. “The guards mentioned to Josephine that his clansmen had visited him in his quarters earlier, and that they heard shouting. They must have argued about something related to the clan.”

“And that prompted him to request that he visit the clan.” Solas finished, nodding solemnly. Yes, that made sense.

Cassandra growled and started pacing. “They probably manipulated him! They _must_ have! They made him feel guilty and inferior— _forced_ him to do this! Judging by what I’ve seen of them so far, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“They _do_ want him back.” Solas conceded. He did not doubt that the two Dalish somehow manipulated U’Din into this, whether intentionally or not—after all, _Solas_ would know how easy it was to guilt the blond into something. Perhaps they appealed to his compassion, or his shame.

The elf frowned. U’Din was too easily influenced by his emotions; they _had_ to work on that somehow.

“He insists that he just wants to visit, and given how desperately he wants it, we are not sure it is wise to deny him. He’s done more than enough to deserve this.” Cassandra said, voice soft for a brief moment. Then it turned gruff again as she continued, “However, I am not sure if this Keeper of his will allow him to come back once he arrives. This could be some form of duplicity on those siblings’ part.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“A compromise: some of us come along with him.” She replied. “I had already approached the rest of the Inner Circle. Vivienne has opted out, saying that she is researching an alchemical formula—perhaps for the Inquisitor. Iron Bull was given another mission with the Chargers—they are to inspect the remains of Haven. Varric... will be waiting for his _friend_ to arrive. Other than the those three, the rest are free to go. Unless _you_ —“

“I volunteer to join.” Solas interjected immediately.

The side of Cassandra’s mouth twitched. “Of course you would. I myself will come along as well, just in case those clansmen of his try anything. Without Varric, I’ll need either Sera or... _Cole_ to come, too. Knowing Sera, however, I fear that she might accidentally offend the Dalish.”

“She offends everyone.” Solas said, barely resisting the urge to snort. How U’Din was able to tolerate her was beyond him. “But given her recent attachment to the Inquisitor, she might want to come along. Cole, as well.”

“Both of them?” Cassandra asked, raising a brow.

“It is not unwise. One rogue is dangerous enough—but two? All the better. And I suspect that such a long travel will tire the Inquisitor easily—with his bad leg, and all. If we encounter any trouble, Cole would be able to stick close to him and make sure no one _else_ gets close.”

“I see.” The Seeker said, nodding in agreement. “And we still don’t know just what Cole’s intentions are. This way, we can keep an eye on him.”

“If that is what you wish.” Solas said diplomatically.

Cassandra nodded again. “Very well. I’ll notify Sera that she’s to come along—and that she is to be _extra_ courteous—“

“Good luck with that.”

“—to Lord U’Din’s clansmen. I have no idea where Cole is, so I have to leave the task of informing him to you.

“The Inquisitor says we should leave at dawn. I trust that you can prepare everything you need by then?”

“Of course.” Solas nodded. After Cassandra nodded back, she turned and walked back inside the rotunda. After a while Solas followed, approaching his desk with a frown marring his face.

What could he expect from clan Lavellan? Being the only clan interested enough to send someone to the Conclave, they ought to be more progressive than the usual Dalish clan—though there was still something about them that just rubbed Solas the wrong way. In any case, whatever came from this visit, he was sure it would be... a _fascinating_ learning experience. He thought this as he picked up the jar of U’Din’s salve and looked up towards the library.

Before _that_ , though, he needed to ask a certain Tevinter for a small favor.

 

* * *

 

Dorian prided himself to be a sensible, observant individual who was smarter than most of his peers. Wait, no, that wouldn’t be much of a feat, given his _previous_ company; rather, he was a sensible, observant individual who was _way_ smarter than most of his peers _combined_. There, that was better. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for that one.

But the ego uplifting was short-lived, for the pile of books on various diseases, magical maladies and entropies near his chair was too tall to ignore. He sighed and closed his current book, putting it on top of the pile. Humming impatiently, he went back to the bookshelves to search for another book.

Yes, Dorian Pavus indeed thought himself to be sensible, observant _and_ smart—yet no matter how much he read, researched and _reflected_ , he was no closer to finding a cure for the Inquisitor than anyone else. The thought bruised his ego quite a bit, but it more so made him depressed.

If he could not help a friend, then what good was he?

He shook his head. No, _no more self-pity_. It never did him good before, and it certainly wouldn’t now. He offered U’Din that he would help—and though the Dalish didn’t explicitly _welcome_ any, Dorian thought it would be a welcome gesture. And after that debacle at breakfast, the Tevinter thought he should do something to make up for his misstep; and that was by being _sensible, observant and smart_.

Though with the present setbacks, he found it hard to be all those things while maintaining a good mood.

“One would think that the Inquisition would have a satisfactory collection of books at the very _least_.” He complained grumpily under his breath, narrowing his eyes at a book before scoffing. “ _The Backup_? Why would anyone want to read this drivel?”

“I find it too long for my tastes, myself.”

Dorian blinked and turned around. “Solas?”

“The very one.” The hedge mage intoned.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for your journey to the Free Marches tomorrow? Cassandra said that you’ll be coming along with.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I _would_ love to go. After all, this is a _great_ opportunity to find out just what kind of environment the Inquisitor grew up in. And I do _love_ to set things on fire.” He grinned briefly. “But alas, I have decided to stay. I started on a project earlier and I don’t think I should waste any time, even for the Inquisitor.” _Especially for the Inquisitor_ , Dorian added in his head.

Solas’ eyes shifted to the side where he saw stacks of books lined up next to Dorian’s chair. “Are you in the middle of a research? I apologize for bothering you, then.”

“Ah, well,” Dorian paused before sighing. “I _should_ be. But with such few books available on the subject I’m researching, it’s going rather slowly. I doubt that I’m even making any progress at all.”

“What exactly are you researching?”

“The Inquisitor’s sickness.”

The elf looked like he was suppressing a smile. Or a smirk. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Why? I can’t care about the Inquisitor? Is that so shocking? So _revolutionary_?” Dorian threw back, not able to keep the sass out of his words. “Far be it from a _Tevinter_ to care about anything other than himself, hm?”

“I apologize, that was not what I meant. It’s just strange to see someone else actually doing _something_ about it.”

“Well, I figured if _no one_ was making an effort in finding a cure for him, I might as well do it myself.” Dorian huffed, looking miffed. “The man is slowly _dying_ and no one’s batting an eyelash! _What, the Inquisitor has a fatal disease? No matter, he’s most likely to die from facing Corypheus than keeling over and frothing at the mouth! I wouldn’t worry about a thing!_ I swear, it’s like nobody cares about him at all! _Maker_!”

The side of Solas’ mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t go as far as to assume nobody _cares_. But it is true that we could be trying harder.”

“ _Exactly_! I suggest writing to— _hold on a moment_.” Dorian paused suddenly, looking at Solas considerably. “You said it was strange to see someone _else_ doing something about it. Are you also doing your own research? We could combine our efforts! It would be easier that way.”

If Dorian hadn’t been so enthusiastic at the prospect, he would have noticed the small, brief smirk on the elf’s face. Solas just nodded to show that he agreed with the Tevinter.

“It would be. In fact, the reason why I approached you was about this very issue.”

The human’s eyes lit up. “Did you discover something? What is it?”

Solas looked around quickly and gestured towards Dorian’s sitting area. The human followed him wordlessly, though he looked a bit confused when they finally reached the privacy of the sitting room.

“Not that this isn’t my favorite place or anything—it has my very own chair, after all,” Dorian began dryly, making Solas want to roll his eyes, “But I assume what you’re about to tell me is a bit off-putting? There aren’t many people around to overhear us.”

“Better safe than sorry.” Solas explained briefly. At the deadpan look on the other man’s expression, the hedge mage added, “You’re right when you said that what I’m about to reveal is off-putting, though it’s not you I’m concerned about.

“I’ve come up with... a theory regarding the Inquisitor.”

“On his disease, you mean?”

“Mostly, but it concerns the Inquisitor as a whole. I have reason to believe that this disease may not have been caused by anything—magical or mundane—but rather, it may simply be a side-effect from being what he already _is_.”

“ _What_?” Dorian balked, but the scolding look on Solas face made him calm down. Somewhat. “What do you mean? How could something like _that_ be a side-effect?”

“In the same way that one bleeds when one is cut.” Solas explained. “Bleeding from an inflicted wound is awful, but it’s normal. It’s how the body works—it’s in our _nature_ to bleed, then to heal. But in U’Din’s case, his wounds not healing after being wounded may simply be in _his_ nature.”

“...What exactly are you trying to imply?” Dorian said levelly, though from the way he was narrowing his eyes meant that he was taking the elf seriously.

Instead of answering, Solas took out a small jar and handed it to the mage. Dorian blinked at it before taking it in his hand, inspecting the inside. His eyes narrowed all the more at what he found.

“This is—“

“The Inquisitor’s salve. Or his Keeper’s, rather.” The elf supplied. “The reason why I approached you was because I hoped you would identify it for me. While I can make the simplest salves, I am no herbalist. The composition of this salve can either disprove or prove my theory.”

“But what exactly _is_ your theory? And why do you think _I_ can identify this?” Dorian asked a bit impatiently. “I’m certainly no better than you at making salves.”

“Yes, but you are an expert in a discipline that I am not much familiar with.”

“What does that have to do with—“

“I cannot risk telling you right now. Despite being mostly certain, I still cannot say for _sure_. That is why I need you to identify this for me. Your input may give me the reassurance that I need in order to push forward.”

Dorian eyed Solas critically before nodding. “I see. Very well, I’ll do my best. And I suppose I should thank you; Vivienne and I are sort-of competing who gets to figure it out first. I do believe that I can one-up her this time around.”

Solas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But he understood that Dorian was _mostly_ joking, so he just nodded back. “Thank you. We’ll discuss this further once I’ve returned. But just in case you figure it out while I’m still away, I request that you refrain from sending me a message about it. Or telling anyone _else_ about this.”

The Tevinter narrowed his eyes. “Why? If this can help us cure the Inquisitor’s illness—“

“If what I theorize is _true_ , then you will understand why I _don’t_ want other people to know about it.” Solas cut him off. He nodded again and said, “Good night, Dorian. I suspect we’ll be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow.”

“Wait, _Solas_!”

The elf mage walked away, leaving Dorian by his lonesome. He sighed and sat down on his chair, cradling the jar in his hands. He lifted the lid and stared into the black paste, frowning as he wondered what Solas thought was so dangerous. And besides, why did he think _Dorian_ could—

_“My darling, if you know your herbalism, you would know that anything that looks like **that** couldn’t possibly be used for healing. In fact,” The enchanter paused before disappearing through the door, turning to give him a look, “I would have thought **you’d** be the first to see that there was something wrong with it.”_

Dorian’s face went blank, then he laughed to himself. No way! It—It couldn’t be! That was just absurd, how could the Inquisitor possibly be...

He stilled, frowning at the ground. He reached behind the chair until he found an old tome that he brought with him when he left Tevinter. He stared into the black paste, no longer able to deny that it was indeed _familiar_. He eyed the book with determination and started rereading.

On the book were the words: ‘ _Mortalitasi: For the Living, the Dead.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO LOTS OF THINGS HAPPENED. Heh, as you may have noticed I've started speeding things up a bit--but hopefully not to the point that it's all rushed. Is it? I hope not. My beta thinks it's pretty balanced, and she actually deleted a few scenes that I wrote. Dorian's scene at the end wasn't even supposed to be in this chapter yet :)) Guhh, rambly style is rambly.
> 
> Next chapter will be clan-focused! And might be longer than usual. I'm really hoping we reach the end of the Grey Warden quest by chapter forty, but that's just wishful thinking on my part OTL Even my beta thinks it might be chapter forty-one at the earliest. But we can dream, HAHAHAHAHahahahuhuhu
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read, to give kudos and to write me comments! :) You all make a big part of my life and I love you <3 <3
> 
> Elvhen:  
>  _Ir abelas_ : I sorrow = I (am) sorry.


	31. Journey Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever! I'm currently learning Nihongo, and my instructor gives out quizzes every meeting so I _really_ had to study and memorize all the kana in less than three weeks. Not to mention, I have Korean kids to tutor in English. WHOO BOY. Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for my absence. :)
> 
> Rikka went on holiday right before I finished this chapter, but she gave me notes. So I guess this chapter was... 4/5 beta'd? Lol what. Will probably have typos, though. But I'll fix that if I find any :))

_“I’m nervous.”_

_U’Din turned to the girl next to him and smiled, patting her arm comfortingly. “Don’t be. You did very well casting those spells. I’m sure the Keeper will make you the First.”_

_The reassurance briefly put a small smile on her face. Then she looked at him and frowned. “But you did well, too. And you’re stronger than I am. That spirit sword...”_

_She looked at his left hand with something akin to envy, and U’Din subtly hid it from her gaze by scratching his neck. “D-Don’t be silly. I’m not stronger than you are. I could barely control that fire spell, remember?”_

_Ellana snorted and bumped his shoulder with hers. “That’s ‘cuz you used it right after a cold spell, silly. You should always wait a bit before changing elements, especially if it’s ice to fire. Don’t you listen to the Keeper’s lessons at all? You’re hopeless!”_

_U’Din laughed self-deprecatingly. “You’re right. I guess that means I’m not gonna be First after all, huh?”_

_“Don’t be so sure! You still have a chance!”_

_“I don’t think I can be the Keeper’s successor anyway, Ellana. Too much expectations. You, on the other hand—you’ll make a good leader. I know it.”_

_“But if I become the First, then what will happen to you?” The girl asked, worrying her lip. “You remember Arlathvhen? The third mage from the Alerion clan was given to the Sabrae clan. What was her name? Mirel? Merril?”_

_“Ellana—“_

_“And there were a couple of Keepers there who were looking for new Firsts, too! What if the Keeper gives you to one of them? I don’t want you to go!”_

_U’Din’s stomach twisted fearfully at the thought, but he managed to force a reassuring smile. “I’m... sure that the Keeper won’t do that. But if she does, we can’t really do anything about it, can we?”_

_“But you’re my best friend! I don’t_ want _you to—oh, shit, it’s the Keeper!”_

_The two of them stood up immediately, watching as the Keeper walked out of her tent. She smiled at both of them before landing her gaze solely on Ellana. Her smile looked like it faded a bit, but that was probably just U’Din’s imagination._

_“Congratulations, Ellana. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I’ve decided that you’re to be my First.” She announced. While the girl cheered, the Keeper turned to U’Din and said, “And U’Din, you’ll be my Second. Our clan is big enough to house three of us mages here.”_

_The blond let out a sigh of relief, which then turned into a grunt when Ellana suddenly tackled him into a hug. He looked up at the Keeper gratefully, also happy that he wasn’t going to be sent away._

_“I need to talk to you for a moment though, da’len.” The Keeper said once the excitement died down. She gestured towards the tent. “Come. Follow me.”_

_“Yes, Keeper!” Ellana said excitedly. She held U’Din’s hand, and he squeezed it back in silent congratulations. She grinned and followed the Keeper to the tent where she was most likely to be briefed about her new role._

_U’Din smiled at the way his best friend practically bounced away like an excited fawn. He felt happy for her; she wanted this for so long, so it was appropriate that the appointment fell on her. He was thankful for it too because the apprenticeship selection had put a strain on their friendship as of late. Now, things could go back to the way they were._

_(But they never did.)_

 

* * *

 

U’Din rubbed at his tired eyes as the bandage magically wrapped itself around his remaining arm. Another roll was wrapping itself around his burnt leg, and one more around his chest. It was quite boring to watch, but he realized that an outsider might find the sight queer, if not outright scandalous. Mages educated in Circles were taught not to use their magic for mundane tasks, he read once. They were taught by the Chantry to use their abilities only when absolutely necessary, like in times of war or when healing (under supervision). Personally, U’Din just preferred to do things manually simply because doing tasks with magic would make him lazy.

He flexed his right hand in front of him and tried to copy the same movement using his other hand—but of course, there was no hand to perform the mimicry. He sighed and waited for the last roll of bandage to finish around his midriff, watching in fascination as the knots were tied by invisible hands.

U’Din preferred to do things by hand. But considering the circumstances, he reluctantly allowed himself to breach his own principles for the sake of practicality.

The Inquisitor had just grabbed his pants from the couch when a knock on the door paused his movements.

“My lord,” A familiar voice from below began. “I’m here with your tea and breakfast.”

U’Din blinked. He was eating here, then? He supposed that made sense; the sky outside was still quite dark, so not many people would be awake at this hour. Breakfast at the tables in the Hall would be lonely, he thought. He called out to the voice and allowed them entrance, quickly putting on his clothes as the servant walked up the stairs.

When U’Din turned to see who had brought up his breakfast, he was surprised. It was the elven servant back at Haven.

“Lord Inquisitor, your breakfast.” She presented the tray and looked around for somewhere to put it down. She saw the battered remains of the desk he had accidentally broken the night before and hesitated. “I—“

“I’m sorry, I had a little accident last night.” U’Din explained. He gestured towards the bed. “You can place the tray on the bed, or the table here. Thank you very much.”

The servant seemed to debate where best to put down the tray. Slowly, she walked towards the table near the couch—thus walking near him. She kept her head bowed as she shakily placed down the tray, and U’Din watched with mild concern as she did so. Was she ill?

“Hey, are you all right?” U’Din asked, making the poor girl jump. She ended up bumping the table, and both of them dived to keep it from tipping over, along with the food. “Oh, that was close—“

“I—I’m so sorry, my lord!” She cried out, kneeling on the floor and keeping her head down. The sight gave U’Din a bit of déjà vu. “I beg your forgiveness! I didn’t mean to be so incompetent, I _swear_ —“

“It wasn’t your fault! Really!” U’Din quickly reassured her, waving a hand in front of him. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. It could have happened to anyone. Just... please don’t.” He ended lamely, sighing a little to himself.

The servant lifted her head to peek up at him. She swallowed and slowly stood up, rubbing her hands nervously in front of her. “I—You’re not cross, my lord?”

“Goodness, _no_. Why would I be cross over such a thing? That would be unreasonable.” The Dalish elf found himself scoffing a little at the thought.

His words managed to summon a small smile from the servant, though she still looked unsure. “W-Well, I messed up back then, too. When I came in without announcing myself and interrupted you.”

“You mean back at Haven? That wasn’t your fault, and you did nothing wrong.”

“But I’m a _servant_ , my lord. ’Snot proper.” She said, biting her lower lip. “I _did_ knock this time around, but I almost wasted your food. And I’m probably wasting your time now, too.”

U’Din’s eyes softened as he considered the girl. “Don’t think that, please. You’re not wasting my time at all. If anything, I’m probably wasting yours. And what did I say about calling me _lord_ before? I told you that I’m just another elf like you.”

She smiled a little, probably recalling the memory. But she shook her head  resolutely and said, “You’re not just another elf, my lord. You’re... _the_ elf. Lots of elves ‘round here are calling you that. Because you saved us. Back at Haven.

“I... I never did thank you properly that time, did I, my lord? We never did. Everyone was panicking, and—” She paused. Her pale green eyes shined with gratitude and awe as she looked up at him for the first time. “But on behalf of everyone you saved that day: _thank you_. Thank you so much, my lord. For saving us—for even _thinking_ about us. We’ll forever be grateful to you, Your Worship, and we promise to serve you till the very end.”

U’Din blushed, overwhelmed by the strong admission. He coughed into his fist and said, “Uh, gee, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it. You already thanked me that time, after all. I only did what was right, and it was my duty to save you all. But, uh... thank  you. For thanking me. It’s... appreciated?” He ended awkwardly, looking down to hide his embarrassment. Geez, he would give anything for a tree to hide in right now.

The servant beamed and nodded. Then she gasped. “Oh! I almost forgot, my lord: the advisors said that you should head to the War Room after your breakfast. And, um, Master Harritt insists that you visit him in the undercroft to get your special armor fitted. He says he’ll drag you there himself if you ignore his message again. _Inquisitor or not_ , he says.”

U’Din groaned. Well, he supposed he couldn’t ignore Harritt’s summons anymore. It had been stupid to ignore them in the first place, but the thought of seeing him craft weapons when _he_ couldn’t—he sighed and nodded. “Very well. Thank you.”

She nodded and bowed, turning to leave. But before she could make it down the stairs, U’Din held on to the stone railing and called out, “Wait! What’s—What’s your name?”

The servant looked alarmed at first, obviously not expecting to be asked for her name. But after a pause, she replied, “My name is Anara, my lord.”

“Anara,” U’Din repeated, testing the name on his tongue. Then he smiled congenially and said, “Well, Anara, thank you again for bringing up my breakfast. And I hope I’ll be seeing you around more.”

She beamed again and nodded, wishing him a pleasant breakfast before exiting. U’Din waited for the distant click of the door beyond the stairwell before sitting at his couch to begin his meal, smiling a little as he chewed. But he thought about meeting with the advisors and going to Harritt later, and the smile slowly faded away. If only Anara had wished him pleasantness that would last beyond breakfast.

He wore the ocarina around his neck and tied his (ugly, ugly, _ugly_ ) hair back with his magic. With one final look, he left his quarters for the War Room.

 

* * *

 

“Inquisitor, you will be traveling north to Jader where you’ll board a ship to Ostwick. We’ve sent word ahead, so our ship will be granted access to the docks. You should arrive in the Free Marches in three days, ideally. After you arrive, my agent Charter will meet you. I’ve sent her and a team of scouts ahead to survey the area, and then to escort you to the Vinmark Mountains where Clan Lavellan was last seen.”

“Lady Seryl of Jader is an ally of Empress Celene’s, but she is one of the Orlesian nobles who has just recently declared support for the Inquisition. We will be allowed to use her docks, but I suspect that this will count as a favor. The raven from the teyrn of Ostwick just arrived an hour ago, as well. His letter was... _colorful_ , to say the least. It seems he did not appreciate his sleep being interrupted last night. But an endorsement from the Travelyans was able to secure us permission to use his docks. Given that Ostwick is a rather paranoid nation due to previous Qunari invasions, this is a tremendous feat. But I suggest treading carefully within the city all the same, Inquisitor.”

“Not very surprising: relations between mages and templars are still rocky at best, and with Kirkwall still healing from the Rebellion four years ago, everyone is still wary. Bringing too many soldiers might cause unnecessary alarm, considering the Inquisitor will just be passing through. I suggest you stay long enough in Ostwick to pay a quick visit to the teyrn, and then get out of the city promptly after, Inquisitor.”

“Thank you.” U’Din nodded after the advisors finished. Sighing, he added, “I realize that this is quite... selfish of me to ask of you, and that I probably made you work unnecessarily hard, but I... appreciate you indulging me regardless. This is quite important to me. I really do want to check on my clan.”

The expressions on the advisors’ faces softened at the Inquisitor’s admission. After a quick exchange of looks, Cassandra spoke, “Think nothing of it, Inquisitor. Truthfully, we should have let you make contact from the very beginning. After everything that you’ve done, it’s the _least_ we could do. We were only briefly concerned about your request last night because we assumed you wanted to leave the Inquisition.”

U’Din blushed at the memory. Well, he supposed he _did_ sound rather ominous when he declared that he wanted to go back to his clan. Anyone would make assumptions after that. “Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to sound rude or anything. I was just... really high-strung last night.” _Still was_ , but they didn’t need to hear that.

“There’s also a security concern, as well.” Cullen spoke, frowning. “While _we_ haven’t made your trip to the Free Marches public, we had to ask nobles for a few favors to make this possible on such short notice. Your visit to Ostwick _will_ be made public, regardless of what we want. As such, there will surely be enemies who would try to take advantage of this short excursion of yours.”

“And we can’t have too many soldiers with us either, lest we be accused of an invasion.” Cassandra added, frowning as well.

“It’s a precarious situation, but we’ll make it work somehow.”

“We’ll have to. The Inquisitor’s life depends on it.”

U’Din felt his stomach drop. That was what he was afraid of: making decisions that could cost the future of the Inquisition. It didn’t help that this wasn’t even _related_ to Inquisition matters. This was just a personal trip. A _selfish_ trip. Part of him wanted to cancel his plans and just assign his clansmen some escorts from Cullen’s soldiers or Leliana’s spies. He didn’t want to cause trouble for the Inquisition during this trip. He didn’t want to _fail_.

But he didn’t want to _not_ try, either. Solas made him realize that in the Fade.

So instead of backing out like his gut was telling him to, he inclined his head respectfully and said, “I’ll welcome any advice that you’re willing to give. And thank you, again. I appreciate it, really.”

If the advisors were surprised by how calm he seemed during the rest of the meeting, they did not voice it. Instead, they continued the meeting and gave the Inquisitor more details and advice for his trip—and U’Din listened dutifully.

Near the end, Cullen said, “We shouldn’t keep you too long, Inquisitor. You are to leave by dawn, after all. But before you leave, make sure to visit Master Harritt in the undercroft. I hear he’s made you some special armor, but he was never able to finish it in time before you left for the Fallow Mire because you neglected to visit.”

U’Din couldn’t help but wince. “Y-Yeah. Sorry. I was just preoccupied with other things, I guess. I’ll visit him after this meeting.”

“I’ll go with you.” Cassandra offered. She rolled her right shoulder. “This pauldron is a little too tight around the shoulder, and I’d like to have it loosened before we leave.”

The Inquisitor nodded, though he couldn’t resist eyeing the warrior’s armor with a bit of resentment. That armor was not made by him. He didn’t even _help_ make it. Knowing that the others who were coming along also had new armor that he didn’t make... it made him feel bitter. He looked at the side where his left hand had been and scowled.

The advisors noticed that and exchanged worried looks.

Cassandra shook her head and walked past him, saying, “Well. To the undercroft then, Inquisitor.”

 

* * *

 

“Was expecting you’d be by.” The blacksmith began, dumping some of the lighter armors on a wooden table. Then he lightly glared at the Inquisitor. “For _weeks_ , in fact. I can’t exactly make an armor that’s specially made for you if I’m not able to make sure it _fits_ right, can I?”

U’Din gulped and hung his head low in apology. “S-Sorry, Master Harritt. I didn’t mean to ignore your summons for so long. Got caught up doing other things, I suppose.”

The blacksmith grunted. “I s’pose it can’t be helped. You’re the Inquisitor now, after all. Must be swamped with all sorts of duties. But you could’ve spared a few minutes just so that I could take your measurements, yeah? Not as fast as you when making gear but I can manage with just _that_ , at least.”

The blond Dalish barely held back a wince at the subtle jab at his negligence (and blatant reminder of his wasted skills). He shared a look with Cassandra and sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Harritt looked at him, then all of a sudden he seemed sheepish. He cleared his throat and said, “I—I didn’t mean to sound snippy, Inquisitor. I apologize for my rudeness.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! You don’t—You don’t have to treat me differently because I’m...” He trailed off. Behind him, Cassandra looked torn. “A-Anyway. You said you developed some special gear for me?”

“Right.” The blacksmith nodded. He gestured towards the armor he placed on the table—dark, flowing cloth mixed with deep grey leather with a small metal chestplate. There was also a pair of leather boots beside the table, though one of them seemed longer and thicker than the other. “Now this here’s what I came up with. It’s just a modification of some enchanter schematics Commander Cullen’s men were able to find and give me. All of them are pretty complex. Said you deserved the best though, and you do.”

U’Din blinked. “Commander Cullen? He... said that?”

“’Course, he would. Why wouldn’t he?” The blacksmith asked rhetorically. Ignoring U’Din’s guilty frown, he continued. “Anyway, mage armor is mostly cloth for a reason. Most mages can’t exactly swing around those bloody staves when they’re encumbered by too much leather and metal. But cloth’s not gonna enough to be able to protect _you_ , innit? I’ve heard you’re pretty resilient for a mage besides, so I made most of the armor out of leather instead. You should try it out now and tell me if it still lets you move around.

“For legs: boots, knee-high. For the injured one I figured you’d need more support for it, so I made the boot for that one have pads inside to support your knee. Less heavy too, so you could walk around with it better. Just be mindful of it, yeah? Both of them made from a mix of craggy skin and lurker scales.”

Cassandra looked impressed. “Craggy skin and lurker scales? Those are rare materials. But highly valued for their quality and versatility.”

Harritt grunted an affirmative. “Lady Nightingale insisted that the Inner Circle’s armor be made from the best materials, especially the Inquisitor’s. And rightly so, if you’re all out in the field facing who knows what.

“I wanted to make some modifications for the arms and boots but again, I needed you to fit this before I could do that.” Harritt paused, taking the armor and handing it over to U’Din. “Right now, it should still fit well, so it’ll have to do. We can modify it to fit you perfectly instead of just _well_ when you get back, though.”

With one hand, the Inquisitor held the armor in front of him. It was a bit heavier than he was used to, but he supposed that was because of the leather. He turned to Harritt and thanked him for all his hard work, and the blacksmith grunted in what U’Din could only guess meant “you’re welcome.”

“Messere Solas, Sera and that strange, pasty rogue boy already came ‘round to get their new gear a while ago. So I suppose it’s just you, Inquisitor.” Harritt turned to Cassandra, “Unless Lady Pentaghast wants some tweakin’ on her armor?”

“I do, in fact. The pauldron on my right shoulder seems a bit too low. I’d like it placed higher.” The Seeker requested.

“Ah, that’ll be quick. At least it’s not to put in extra pockets or anything, like that Sera.” Harritt sniffed, recalling the memory like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “That girl breaks more gear than she’s worth, you know. I made her armor better than the one she used to wear before—cloth thicker, leather better. But she wanted a belt that can hold her flasks, too. Wanted to carry more of those blasted grenades she likes so much.”

“It’s her talent. As long as her tonics continue to aid in battle, she should be indulged in that regard.” Cassandra explained. Then she frowned. “But if she tries to ask for a belt that can hold her jars of bees, you have my permission to say no. In fact, that’s an order. Say _no_.”

“You know what’s best, Lady Pentaghast.”

Harritt led Cassandra to a different table where she could take off her pauldrons and breastplate, leaving U’Din by his lonesome. He stared at the armor in his hand and tried to appreciate it for what it was: the fruit of a man’s hard work, born out of thoughtful concern for him and his wellbeing. He tried not to think about how it was different from what he was used to, how _he_ could have made himself armor that would have been just as good (if not better). He also tried not to think about the others wearing armor that _wasn’t_ made by him, fighting and defending in armor that _he had no_ hand _in making_.

He stared at the empty space in his left side again and took a deep breath. It was hard. Very, very _hard_. But what was harder was having to listen to the noise of the hammer behind him as Harritt made last-minute adjustments on Cassandra’s armor, and not setting the fucking table on fire because of it. U’Din wore the armor quietly, careful not to show how displeased he was.

(If he threw his old armor a bit too loudly on the table, he pretended that it was an accident.)

 

* * *

 

Sera yawned as she waited outside the tavern for _his Inquisitorness_ to wake up from his beauty sleep. She’d been awake for hours, probably, already armored up to go. She skillfully twirled an iron arrow between her fingers as she looked up at the dark sky—slightly tinted blue where the sun was expected to peek out soon. That would be dawn, the time Cassandra said they’d leave. Recalling that conversation made her scowl and put the iron arrow back in the quiver, and she stood up to walk around the bailey—brows furrowed as she thought and thought and _thought_ , getting more irritated the longer she did it.

Because she _hated_ thinking.

It wasn’t because she was stupid, though she knew most people would beg to differ. Sure, she didn’t like to read a lot of books, didn’t know a lot of words (but why use words most people wouldn’t understand, anyway?); she didn’t appreciate complicated topics like politics or archdemons or _magic_ (because what use are they if not everyone could relate to all that?). Sera didn’t like thinking because thinking meant complicated stuff, and she just... liked simple things. Like keeping things simple. That didn’t mean she was _stupid_.

She was just... simple. Simple as that.

Not many people were like her, unfortunately. They’d rather contemplate confusing things, ask stupid questions that probably didn’t have any answers. They liked playing stupid power games, using regular people as their pawns. Instead of doing what was _important_ , they chatter away, talking about things that didn’t _matter_ —not like _people_ -people. People suffered and _died_ all the time and yet... they just didn’t care! Stupid, stuck-up sods, all of them!

It was because of pride. It was _always_ because of pride. Sera hated pride _so much_.

“Pissbags.” Sera huffed to herself as she hoisted her pack on her shoulder. Irritated, she kicked at the ground and stomped around, not caring if anyone would find her behavior strange. Not many were awake at this hour, anyway.

But _why_ was she even irritated in the first place, one might ask. Oh, that was because a certain bigwig _someone_ wanted to visit their elfy-elf clan because he wanted to “check on them.” Make sure they were safe. Well, _piss_ that! Why were they wasting time on some stupid elves when there were more important things to do? People out there were _dying_ and yet they were going to who-knows-where! And it’s not like they even cared about him when they sent him to the conclave in the first place! So why should _he_ care about _them_?

It was complicated, and Sera hated complicated things. Almost as much as she hated pride, which Droopy was _oozing with_ , by the way! Thought he could just do whatever he wanted now that he was Inquisitor, waste his time on stupid things. _Ha!_

Sera will have to make him see reason. _As always_.

She grumbled and looked up. The sky still held on to that dark-blue tinge that meant that it was already nearing dawn, but not quite there yet. Torches were still lit to light the way of those awake enough to need them, but Sera was able to navigate through the somewhat-darkness without them well enough. She had always been able to see rather well in the dark. It made stealing a lot easier; _killing_ baddies easier. Briefly, she wondered why that was, and thought that it was because she was an elf—

She stopped the thought right there. Nope. _Not thinking it_ , she chanted in her head as she looked up towards the Inquisitor’s keep— _Droopy’s_ keep.

That put a grin on her face: she had already gone around chatting with the servants and telling them that she called the Inquisitor _Droopy_ because... well, _have you seen him_? He reeked of droopiness! Several of the servants had been scandalized— _how dare you refer to his lordship that way?!_ —and she could tell that they would have probably tried to throttle her if she wasn’t Droopy’s friend. But she hoped they found it a _little_ funny. And a relief. Because Droopy allowing Sera to call him _Droopy_ meant that he wasn’t a scary bigwig like most bigwigs; that he was still _Droopy_ behind that Inquisitor title.

Or at least, she _hoped_ he was. This stupid trip to his elfy clan was really getting on her nerves. She had better things to _do_! Like... Like receive juicy info from her “friends.” Or playing pranks to cheer people up— _ooh_ , she and Droopy hadn’t tried that pie prank yet—

_Hoot._

Sera blinked. She looked around for the source of the noise and heard a flutter of... wings? She turned around and saw something land on the roof of the armory, its dark eyes focused on Sera, unblinking.

 _Hoot_ , it said again.

The blond rolled her eyes. It was Birdy. Who was... oddly awake for some reason. That was odd. Weren’t owls supposed to be nocturnal or something? She narrowed her eyes at it suspiciously.

“Hey, you. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? Why the frig are you flapping your wings so early?”

The owl shook. _Shook_. For some reason, Sera thought it just laughed at her. Which was weird because _birds don’t laugh at you_. They just... stare and poop. The latter made her stare warily at it, and she started walking away. When the owl followed her by strafing along the edge, she growled at it.

“Hey! You shit on me and you’re roast, you got that? I don’t care if you’re Droopy’s bird; no one poops on me!”

The owl’s (amused?) hoots sounded weird in quick succession. Sera huffed.

“Arse bird.”

“Now what has you talking to yourself so early?”

The owl’s hoots stopped, and Sera turned to see Solas standing behind her, already in his armor. She squinted at him and recoiled when she got a good look at his face, “ _Eugh_ , Solas! You look like shite. More than usual, anyway.”

“I see that even the lack of sun has no effect on your crudeness.” The tired-looking hedge mage intoned drily, lightly glaring when Sera blew a raspberry at him. “Do try not to be so infuriating. I’ve had trouble sleeping.”

“Kept Droopy up last night, did you? Or had dreams of _elven glory_ or whatever?” Sera jeered, laughing crudely as the mage rolled his eyes. She stopped laughing and saw him carrying a grey bag. She squinted at it. “Wussat? Isn’t that Droopy’s?”

“Your observation skills are impressive, rogue. Yes, it is indeed the Inquisitor’s satchel. It was left in my possession for a while, and I intend to return this to him today.” Solas supplied.

“Geez, I didn’t ask for a back story, did I?” Sera grumbled.

Solas scoffed. He looked towards the roof where Sera had been facing and blinked in surprise when he saw the Inquisitor’s owl companion perched there. It was silent and still as it regarded Solas, and he stared back curiously. Smiling, he inclined his head and greeted the owl. “Hello.”

The white owl opened its mouth and let out a low, warning screech, extending its wings behind it. Solas seemed to expect the response because he just continued to smile. The owl calmed down and glared down at Solas, looking put-out. Sera watched the exchange curiously and turned to the hedge mage.

“Oi, Birdy doesn’t seem to like you.” She pointed out. “I mean, I’m not surprised or anything, but that’s the first time I saw it act like that. It’s really nice when Droopy’s around.”

“Considering it’s the Inquisitor’s owl, it’s not very surprising that he’s more docile around him.” Solas replied drily. He looked up at the owl thoughtfully, smirking a bit when dark, round eyes narrowed warily at him. “It’s interesting, however. I don’t recall him acting this way towards me at Haven.”

“Why the frig would that be interesting? That’s _weird_!”

The mage smiled, further infuriating the elven archer. He just stared at the owl who didn’t take its eyes off of him—but behind the suspicion there was also nervousness, judging by the way its feathers were rumpled. Perhaps it remembered that it had shredded Solas’ notes on his theories about U’Din, and it was anticipating whether or not Solas would do something about it. But it would be _so_ interesting if it were true; after all, how could an owl—an _animal_ —exhibit behavior that was exclusive to people, like guilt or nervousness? And seemingly have motives only people could have, like tearing up the notes in the first place?

Sera crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the owl stare quietly at Solas. She snorted. “Birdy _really_ doesn’t like you, Solas. Too bad, because if Droopy’s _owl_ doesn’t like you, then—“

“Shivehn.”

“What?”

“The owl’s name. It’s Shivehn.”

“Oh.” Sera replied intelligently. Then she snorted again. “I guess that’s another _elfy_ name, huh? Well, not that I care what it means. Though you’re _probably_ going to explain it anyway, ‘cuz you’re an elfy turd.”

“It means _duty to the people_. It’s a rather archaic name. Or rather... _title_. It hasn’t been used in many years, and there was only _one_ person in elvhen history that had that moniker.”

“Blah, blah, _blah_.” Sera dismissed uninterestedly, waving a hand and blowing a raspberry at him. “I don’t really care, Solas. You can talk about _dead_ people all you want, but I’m not interested. Droopy might be, but the turd isn’t here yet. And speaking of... where the frig is he?! He’s the one who said we’re leaving at dawn and the sun’s almost up!”

While Sera ranted about the absence of the Inquisitor, Solas entertained thoughts of the name (or _title_ ) _Shivehn_ more. That meant going back in time—back when _elvhen_ was a race to be proud of, and not inferior reflections of what once was (or worse, traitors who turned their back on their own kind, like the one yapping her mouth behind him). It meant traveling back to crystal and gold gilded halls where nobles celebrated while the servants scurried, their ears straining to catch anything of interest. It meant Solas walking around those halls as the bastard son of a lord, turning his head to briefly catch a glimpse of black and silver—

“It was inspired.”

The hedge mage felt a brief chill beside him and turned to see Cole suddenly standing there, looking up at Shivehn. Sera recoiled and pointed at him, saying that he should _warn people before poofing out of nowhere,_ _Creepy_! Both of them ignored her in favor of the owl on the roof.

“Inspired, you say?” Solas asked.

“Yes.” Cole nodded and played with his belt. “Back then, the Dread Wolf was still a pup. But he was rejected, a runt. Learned to stand on his paws by himself, with no one to help him. Learned to wield and shape his own magic, also by himself. But the Rebellion—he did not learn until someone died to make it possible.”

The spirit’s words caused him to smile wistfully, but it vanished when the owl screeched, spreading its wings and taking flight. Shivehn perched on Cole’s new hat and peered down at him, hooting in disapproval.

Cole looked sheepish. “Oh. Sorry. Did I say too much?”

The owl sighed— _sighed_ —and shook its head. But it continued to hoot and rumble at Cole. The rogue blinked and peered up at Shivehn. “It’s okay. Solas wouldn’t do anything wrong. Maybe he could even help!”

Solas’ brows shot up at being mentioned, and the owl hooted louder. Cole shook his head and said, “That’s not true. I know it’s not. Why won’t you—“

“Droopy! What the _frig_?!”

The three turned to see the Inquisitor walking down alongside Cassandra. The Seeker scowled irritably and berated Sera as the archer ran towards them, making wild gestures with her hands. Solas could see that U’Din was trying to placate her, but something had obviously bothered Sera. Solas was about to dismiss it as typical Sera behavior when he caught an actual glimpse of the Dalish elf.

U’Din’s hair—it was _short_. Solas would have stared slack-jawed if he didn’t find it so beneath him.

“He didn’t want it cut. He liked it long.” Cole sighed beside him as Shivehn took flight, presumably towards the Inquisitor. “But she made him. Like always.”

Solas didn’t ask for clarification. Instead, he nodded and approached the Inquisitor, Cole trailing quietly behind him.

 

* * *

 

“You look like shite!” U’Din heard Sera shout as she drew closer. She was gesturing at him empathically. “And your hair—lemme see it. Let it down. _Let it_ —piss, it’s horrible. What the frig happened to you?”

U’Din rolled his eyes, hoping he was able to mask the slight hurt from the comments. He only wished that he could also hide the tired lines around his eyes. It made him look like he had trouble sleeping or spent the night crying. Or both. “Well, good morning to you, too. What’s got you so energetic so early—“

“Yeah, yeah, good morning, _whatever_! Don’t change the subject!” She waved a hand at him. She gestured empathically ( _again_ ) at his head, “What happened? What _shite_ did you get yourself into this time? Did you lose a bet with Dorian? Did your hair get stuck in the door when you closed it? Did you and Solas _really_ keep each other up and did some kinky fire magic thingy—“

“Sera, how many times have I told you _not_ to talk to the Inquisitor in such a way?” The Seeker cut her off roughly, glaring sternly at the archer. “I realize that you and lord U’Din are friends, but show him respect! Especially in public settings!”

“It’s fine, Lady Cassandra. Not many people are awake to hear her screeching, anyway.” The Inquisitor defended as he ran a hand through his hair, though he blushed at the Sera’s insinuation at the end. “I didn’t get into _any_ shit, Sera. But I appreciate the concern. As eloquently as you expressed it.”

“Oh. So what happened? How’d _that_ become,” She paused to wave expressively at his head. “ _That_?”

U’Din grimaced briefly before forcing a smile on his tired face. “Well, I had it cut last night. It was starting to get too long and difficult to maintain so... Ellana cut it for me.”

“Wait. _Bitchy_ did it?” Sera asked, blinking. He half-glared at her for the comment but nodded anyway. She looked at the left side of his head and scowled. “Well no wonder it looks like a mess. She can’t do anything right, can she?”

Before U’Din could open his mouth to reflexively defend his “friend”, Solas and Cole came into his view. His expression immediately brightened upon seeing the hedge mage, and smiled shyly in greeting. “He—Hello, Solas.”

“Good morning, U’Din. Although I suppose we can’t call it that, seeing as it’s barely even dawn yet.” Solas greeted. He inclined his head towards the Seeker. “Cassandra.”

“I’m pleased to see that you three are already here. I trust that you are well-equipped for the journey?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Solas replied, with Cole nodding behind him. He lifted the empty satchel and held it in front of the Inquisitor. “I believe this is yours, Inquisitor.”

U’Din looked at him, then stared openly at the satchel in Solas’ hands. His eyes widened in recognition. “That’s—“

“Your satchel.” Solas supplied helpfully. He handed it over to an eager U’Din who immediately knelt on the ground to inspect its contents. “It was left with me after you survived Haven and became unconscious. I had stumbled across it earlier while preparing for our journey to the Free Marches, and I thought it apt to give it back to you.”

The owl perched on Cole’s head again, and it sent Solas a quick glare that the hedge mage didn’t fail to notice. It confused him at first, but then he smiled when a memory hit him: now that he thought about it, did Cole not tell him that _Shivehn_ wanted him to take the satchel? It probably regretted its actions now.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra watched as U’Din checked every pocket and space in the bag, slightly worried that he was doing so with so much intensity. She frowned and turned to Solas. “Why was his satchel with you for so long? What were you doing with it?”

“I admit I had forgotten about it, but I assure you that I did nothing with it. However, I _did_ have to—“

“Where are my journals?”

The three turned to U’Din. Solas blinked. “Pardon?”

“My journals. My _father’s_ journals.” U’Din repeated, looking up at the older elf sharply. “Where are they? They aren’t here. I—I remember my potions breaking and spilling on my journals. Oh fuck, they must be ruined! _Fuck_ , Solas, where are they, where did you _put_ them—“

“Calm yourself, U’Din. What did I say about your temper?” Solas interjected sternly. U’Din looked defiant and frantic as he closed his mouth shut. With a gentler tone, Solas added, “You needn’t worry. There were glass shards poking out of the bag, so I checked the inside and cleaned them out earlier. Your journals, however, are fine; I left them on my desk.”

U’Din inspected his bag again. True enough, it _did_ look like it had a few holes. He clucked his tongue in irritation, thinking himself a big fool for forgetting about it. But the satchel wasn’t as important as the journals. They—They belonged to his _father_. And they had so much useful information in them! Schematics, notes, even little stories. And since he spilled potions on them—

He spilled _potions_ on them.

He swallowed, hugging the satchel to his chest. “Did—Did you check if the journals were fine? The pages, I mean? Did... Did they still have writing on them?”

Solas’ face betrayed no emotion at first. Then he shook his head. “No. I did not. Why would I do such a thing?”

U’Din sighed. Of _course_ Solas wouldn’t look at the journals. What for? For all he knew, they had nothing interesting in them. Plus, he doubted Solas was the type to snoop around and invade someone’s privacy. He felt guilty for having thought so at first.

“It’s... It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Solas. I apologize for insinuating anything.” The Inquisitor said. He slowly rose from the ground, careful with his leg, and put the strap around his head, struggling a bit. When the satchel safely hung at his side, he looked up and gave Solas the first smile of the day. “Anyway, um. Thank you, Solas. And... uh. How—How are you?”

“I am fine. Thank you for asking.” Solas smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly. It made his tired face look more apparent—though it was the first time U’Din noticed it.

But before he could ask about it, Sera made gagging noises beside him. She laughed as he glared at her, and Cassandra rolled her eyes at the immaturity of it all. “Inquisitor, if you’re done checking your things, we should head to the stables. I received word that your clansmen are already there.”

“Oh.” U’Din said. He scowled briefly before sighing, nodding his head. “Very well. I assume they know that I’m coming along with them?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” Cassandra said. She made her way to the stairs leading to the courtyard, the four following suit. A soldier went up to her and saluted, walking alongside her as he gave her a report. Something about mounts.

While they made their way to the stables, U’Din turned to the older elf and asked, “Are you okay, Solas? You look rather tired.”

“You needn’t be concerned, U’Din. I’m fine.” The corners of Solas’ mouth lifted slightly, though the polite smile only accentuated further the tired lines around his eyes. “I confess to having difficulty sleeping last night, however. But it’s nothing, really.”

 _You too_ , was what U’Din wanted to say. But instead, what came out was, “I hope you’re still fine coming along with me, Solas. I know this isn’t going to help with our fight against Corypheus, so I understand if you want to sit this one out—“

“Exhaustion won’t keep me from helping you, Inquisitor. And I’m always happy to come along with you.” Solas smiled sweetly, and he ignored the cry of _arse bandits!_ from the sidelines. “Although, on another note, I admit I’m curious: what happened to your hair?”

U’Din blushed and ran a hand through the side of his hair that was jagged. “Um, I—“

“It looks like piss, dunnit?” Sera joined the conversation, placing an arm around the embarrassed Inquisitor. “But don’t you worry about it, yeah? I can fix it for you later!”

The Inquisitor blinked, frowning unsurely. “Uh, it’s okay, Sera. It’ll grow back anyway. I don’t care how it looks—“

“Liar.”

“ _What_?”

“I said, _liar_. As in, you were lying. _Liaaarrr_.”

“And what exactly did I lie about?”

“Not caring what your hair looks like. Because _obviously_ , you do.” Sera sounded particularly smug as she answered, as if knowing U’Din well was an accomplishment in itself. “You care about what you look like, even though you pretend you don’t. You told me before that you didn’t like me pulling it because it was _sacred_ , you said.” Sera emphasized the word by mimicking how U’Din said it—tenor voice and all. “But now it looks like absolute _shite_ and you act like you’re fine but actually, you’re _dying_ inside because oh no, my hair, my hair, my _beautiful, shiny hair_ —“

“Eyes forward, back straight, fingers digging into my knees as the Keeper brings the knife close. I want to tell her I wanted it long, but the lumps of hair already surround me by the time I summon the courage. _There, all better, da’len,_ she says, but no, not better, _not_ better, I want it _long_! Next time. Next time for _sure_ , I’ll tell her that.”

“Eugh, stop talking at us, Creepy!”

“All right, all right!” U’Din protested, pouting when Sera just laughed. He grumbled. “So I care about how it looks. Big deal. Not like there’s anything I can do about it _now_ , though.”

“Uh, yes there is.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Fixing the ends to make them look better. Cutting the weirdy parts. _Doing something about it_. Like what I’m going to do for you!” The archer declared.

U’Din raised an eyebrow. “And how are you going to do that?”

“Droopy, I just explained how!” She reached behind her and drew out a small knife. She tossed it from hand to hand as they reached the courtyard. “I shred, cut, fix. _Done_. Hair not horrible, Bitchy can suck it, and Sera saves the day. Or the hair.”

U’Din sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of this, was he? Instead of trying to fight the archer, he just waved his hand and said, “Whatever. Do what you want. Though I doubt that you can fix this mess.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to cutting hair! I cut my own hair myself, you know.” She said, proudly pointing at her bangs.

U’Din groaned at the sight. “Fuck me.”

She scoffed and put back the knife. “No thanks, not interested. Solas might be, why don’t you ask him?”

“ _Sera_!”

“That doesn’t answer _why_ it became a mess in the first place, however.” Solas rejoined the conversation, pointedly ignoring Sera’s crude comment. He appreciated the pretty blush on the other mage, though. “It was still long when we had that conversation in... your quarters. What prompted it? It seemed quite sudden.”

U’Din sighed and said, “Well, um, after you left and put that oil burner in my room—thank you, by the way, I appreciated it—my... that is, Ellana and Mahanon visited me in my room. Ellana was going to cut my hair, and she did.” U’Din left out the argument that followed after, not sure whether he was willing to reveal that to Solas or not. Maybe later but... not now. It still felt raw, and U’Din wasn’t in the mood to remember that, thanks.

“I see. But why? I was under the impression that you liked your hair long.” Solas asked, frowning.

“Yeah, you never told me why she cut it.” Sera joined in the frowning, crossing her arms over her chest.

U’Din took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’ll... tell you guys later. But not now. Okay?”

“But—“

“Sera, _no_.”

“Piss!”

They reached the stables where Cullen and Master Dennet stood waiting for them, but U’Din’s clansmen were nowhere in sight. A nearby soldier said that they went to the kitchens because Mahanon wanted something to eat. It made the blond scoff; of _course_ he would try to get one last good meal before leaving.

“Inquisitor, Master Dennet has a surprise for you.” Cullen began, smiling widely for some strange reason. It was probably the first time U’Din saw him look so open and happy around him. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

The horse master shared the grin and looked proud. “You’ll like this one, Inquisitor. Heard rumors of a beauty like this wandering around the south of the Frostbacks and had a few men bring him here. Took hours, though. He’s a tough one, he is.”

U’Din blinked at the two humans and asked, “What do you mean? Who will I like?”

“More like _what_ , really.” Cullen replied vaguely, though he was still smiling. He turned to the horse master. “Master Dennet?”

“Very well. Wait here, Your Worship. It might take me a while to get him out.” The Ferelden suddenly grumbled, sounding reluctant to take on the task. He vanished inside the stables, leaving U’Din to stare after him in confusion.

“What was that all about?” He turned to the Commander who just grinned in reply.

He pouted slightly. Well, he supposed he was going to have to wait to see whatever Master Dennet wanted to show him. A few minutes passed, and Cassandra was already starting to complain when U’Din heard a trumpet-like whinny that made him stare wide-eyed at the source. The red-coated hart stomped around, struggling against the reins as Master Dennet and several stable boys tried to bring it over to him.

It was the most beautiful creature U’Din had ever laid eyes on.

Solas started. “That’s—“

“A hart.” U’Din whispered, awed. He grinned. “A _Red Hart_.”

Master Dennet returned the grin. “Aptly named, hm? Though _Large Pain in the Arse Hart_ would do just as nicely.”

The hart whinnied insolently at that and pulled its head back. Since Dennet was still holding onto the reins, he stumbled back and almost fell if not for the stable boys standing behind him. He glared up at the hart who just looked around innocently.

“Yes, definitely a pain in the arse hart.” Dennet grumbled.

The hart whinnied.

U’Din walked up to it, still slack-jawed. He ignored the calls of caution from the others and didn’t even notice Shivehn perch on his shoulder. He focused his gaze on the creature but made sure not to stare directly into its eyes. He didn’t want to be considered a threat, after all. The rebellious hart stopped struggling when U’Din stood in front of it, and it regarded him and Shivehn curiously.

“Hello. _Hi_.” U’Din greeted breathlessly as the hart whinnied a greeting back at him. He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and smiled shyly. “I’m U’Din. You’re—You’re a _hart_. Wow. I—I never thought I’d get to see one. You’re very beautiful. I hope we can be friends.”

“ _Hoot!_ ”

U’Din’s soft tenor attracted the hart, and it leaned down to sniff at him. The Inquisitor held out his hand for him to sniff, and he did so thoroughly. The hart lingered on the bandage and seemed to sense something amiss, and it looked up at U’Din warily. U’Din’s face fell and he backed away, but Shivehn suddenly hooted. The Red Hart seemed to listen to the owl, then looked back down at U’Din.

The hart stepped forward and nudged his chest, and U’Din took that as an invitation to stroke its neck. The hart felt stiff under his touch, but it didn’t seem to _hate_ him. U’Din thought that was a good enough reason to grin like a loon.

“You’re such a majestic creature. Aren’t you?” U’Din asked. The hart whinnied, and his grin widened. “I’m so lucky. This is such a dream come true. You don’t even _know_.”

Shivehn hooted, and the Red Hart looked at it intently. Then it blew air into U’Din’s face affectionately, making the Inquisitor laugh in surprise.

Everyone witnessing the scene stared, dumbfounded.

“Well, I’ll be.” Commander Cullen’s lips curled, and he found the display in front of him quite touching. He shared a look with Cassandra. “That’s probably the first time I heard him laugh. If I’d known that it would take a _hart_ to make him happy, I’d have had the men look for one _months_ ago.”

“He looks like a child given a lifetime supply of sweets.” Cassandra agreed dryly, though she too was smiling.

“That’s got to be some kind of magic.” Master Dennet said, scoffing in disbelief. “Look at him! Took ten men to restrain that thing when we first saw it and he just walks up and _touches_ it!”

“Will you let me ride you? Please?” U’Din asked with shining eyes as he rubbed down the hart’s chest. The hart whinnied and stomped. “Will you? I promise I’ll be gentle. I won’t hit you or anything like that. You won’t regret it, _promise_.”

Sera burst out laughing and nudged Solas in the side. “Look, Solas! Bet you wish you were the hart, huh? Hahahaha!”

Cullen barely managed to hold back a snort, and he masked his mistake by clearing his throat and looking away. Cassandra rolled her eyes, but oddly enough she was smirking. Dennet was still bemused by how quickly the Inquisitor tamed the hart, and he looked torn between calling it a coincidence and asking for advice.

Solas glared at Sera, then briefly at the two humans who were pointedly ignoring him. Slightly miffed, he turned to watch U’Din wait patiently for the stable boys to saddle the hart properly. He intended to do just that, but at the corner of his eye he saw Leliana and Josephine arriving—followed by Lavellan’s First and Hunter.

His eyes lingered on the hunter, and he turned back to U’Din. Then, he smirked.

The Inquisitor struggled to climb up the hart, seeing as it was rather tall and he was still technically an invalid. His good mood started to deplete rather quickly as he kept struggling, and a tap on his arm made him pause.

Solas smiled up at him and offered a hand, “Do you need help?”

U’Din blinked and smiled—and didn’t he look more handsome that way? Solas thought so as the blond took his hand and used it to hoist himself up on the hart, and he didn’t let it go even after sitting down. That filled Solas with warmth, even as Sera made gagging noises from the sidelines.

Master Dennet nodded towards Cullen, then the two other advisors as they approached. “I’ll prepare the other horses, then?”

“Yes, thank you.” Cullen nodded back. The former Knight-Captain turned to Leliana and Josephine, as well as the two Dalish. “The Inquisitor seems to like the hart. Perhaps your advice _did_ work, Leliana.”

“Of course, it did. What did I tell you?” She said, beaming as she watched the Inquisitor and the hart trot around. “Alim used to say that there was something magical about the harts that attracted elves. Maybe it’s because of their long history? I suppose not _all_ elves would feel the connection, but the Inquisitor certainly does.”

“It fits him.” Josephine smiled beside her. “A mount worthy of the Inquisitor.”

“So it’s true, then.” Ellana spoke from behind, catching their attention. She regarded U’Din with a seemingly neutral expression. “He’s coming home with us?”

“The Inquisitor _will_ return to the Inquisition.” Cassandra clarified firmly before nodding. “But yes, he’s coming with you. He insisted that he wanted to escort you home himself.”

The First hummed, sounding unconvinced. She watched U’Din ride the hart and wear a grin that she hadn’t seen on him in years. The fool probably felt proud of himself; the Keeper’s stories about harts always attracted him as a child, and she often listened to him ramble on about meeting one at least once. Him not just seeing one, but _riding_ one was a dream come true and more. Years ago, she probably would have been happy for him. But now...

“Well, whatever.” She finally said. “Are we leaving now, then?”

“Yes. If you are ready.”

Ellana turned to her brother. The hunter had been quiet since they arrived at the stables, which she ignored until then. But then she saw Mahanon staring intently at Solas and U’Din and understood why.

Ellana sighed, before nodding. “Yes. We’re ready.”

The advisors nodded and started barking out orders to their respective divisions; Cullen to the soldiers, Leliana to her scouts, and Josephine to her assistants. The drawbridge leading out of the castle was drawn down, and pretty soon the Inquisitor and his companions were setting out for the Free Marches.

U’Din smiled dreamily down at the hart and rubbed its neck. “I’ll name you Vhenas’ral. Do you like that?”

The hart blew air out of its nose and whinnied in approval.

“Vhenas’ral.” Cole repeated, following silently behind the party. Then he smiled wistfully. “ _My journey home_.”

 

* * *

 

_Ambassador Montilyet,_

_It is no trouble at all, my dear. Granting the Inquisition access to the docks is child’s play, and my niece’s husband is more than happy to lend the Inquisitor one of his ships. I’m only regretful that we could not lend him a proper passenger vessel; trading ships aren’t ideal for an entrance worthy of His Worship, surely! But the ship itself is grand enough. Stephan has always been rather vain with his ships, really._

_But I must admit, I did not expect the Inquisitor to be such a delight! Rumors about him being one of those—Dalish, was it?—had me painting him with specific strokes, truthfully, but I found him quite endearing during our brief meeting. Perhaps it was his humility. And his manners! He’s even nice to the servants, though that’s probably in virtue of a shared heritage, yes? I must say, I was impressed. My husband Gerard agrees with me, of course._

_I’m afraid I must cut this letter short, Ambassador. Duty calls, after all. However, my husband and I are looking forward to meeting His Worship again at the Winter Palace this Firstfall. Have you decided what he should wear? I cannot explain why, but I believe he’d look dashing in dark colors. Maybe even black._

_Cordially,_

_Comtesse Seryl du Brodeur of Jader (9:41 Dragon, 21 Harvestmere)_

 

* * *

 

The ship rocked back and forth, causing U’Din to let out a sickly moan. A particularly bumpy lurch made him grip the edge of the ship as he was hit with another wave of nausea, and he sighed tiredly after it passed without incident. He remembered the first time he crossed the Waking Sea months ago—stowing away in a shipping vessel similar to this one. How’d he manage _that_ , again?

 _‘Oh, right,’_ He thought as he grimaced at the sea. _‘I put a few sailors to sleep and stole one of their hats to hide my ears.’_

It wasn’t a particularly proud moment, him doing that. He would have done something _less_ underhanded if he could. But that was probably the first time he saw any humans up close, and he supposed he panicked a bit when they saw him trying to sneak in the ship. He promised to himself that he would try to remember which ship that was, but ever since the explosion at the Conclave, any recent memory was foggy at best. Kind of like the weather right now.

He would have laughed at his own joke if he wasn’t so nauseated.

“It’s funny because it’s about the memory _and_ the weather.”

U’Din felt a brief chill—and a flash of hurt?—and he looked to see Cole standing beside him, with Shivehn perched on his head. The spirit reached out and rubbed down his back, causing him to groan. The ship lurched again, causing him to heave. Shivehn transferred to U’Din’s shoulder and crooned.

Cole winced. “I... really can’t do anything about that. Sorry.”

“That’s—That’s okay, Cole. Your presence helps.” U’Din replied, reaching up to scratch Shivehn’s chest. “Why are you out here with me, anyway? The others are inside, aren’t they?”

“Solas is dreaming. Sera is pranking. Cassandra is... frowning.” Cole paused, looking around. “And your friends are wandering the ship. None of them need me right now. But you do.”

“Ah,” The blond hoisted himself up from the floor and tried standing. He almost slipped when the ship swayed (“ _Hoot!_ ”), but luckily Cole was there to steady him. “Thanks. And you don’t have to come over when I _need_ you, or whatever you meant. You can come talk to me whenever. It’s been a while since we chatted, hasn’t it?”

The spirit of Compassion frowned guiltily at that and briefly looked in the owl’s direction. “Yes. Sorry about that. It’s been... difficult.”

“It’s not your fault, Cole. I’m glad we can talk now.” U’Din tried smiling but ended up covering his mouth as he gagged. The ship groaned as it rocked. “ _Eugh._ Sorry. I apparently don’t do well on ships. How I managed to survive this the first time is beyond me.”

“You were hiding. It was easier to forget to be nauseous when you focused on remembering to be quiet.” Cole answered him like it was obvious. He turned and leaned against the edge, looking up at the foggy, grey sky. “Fidgeting, fumbling, feeling light-headed. _How many days? I’ve been here for a long time. Has the ship arrived at Ferelden? Not sure. Might need to go out and get water soon. I’m running out. But mustn’t get caught, mustn’t_ fail—”

“Is _that_ what I was thinking?” U’Din chuckled weakly as he sat against the edge of the boat. Shivehn hopped off his shoulder and onto the floor. “I don’t really remember a lot, which is weird. I don’t remember what happened during the explosion, and what really happened a week or two before that. But I remember Ellana telling me to go in her stead clearly. And telling the children a story from one of my father’s journals.”

“They like your stories. They miss you very much.” Cole commented, obviously reaching towards the children through U’Din’s memories. The blond smiled; he missed them too. “As for your memories... not everything was taken from you. Only the ones that can be used against the one who took them.”

U’Din started and turned to Cole. “Not everything was taken—are you saying _someone_ was responsible for that? Someone _took_ my memories away from me?”

“Yes, but,” The spirit brought his knees close to him. “I can’t really... The memories are gone, yes? I know they were taken by something, but because they’re not there I can’t really know. But I know it was someone bad. Or some _thing_ bad. More something than someone.”

“Could it be Corypheus?” U’Din asked in a whisper.

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” Cole answered. Then he looked sorrowful as he turned to U’Din. “Sorry I can’t help. I’m afraid I haven’t done anything to help you.”

“Nonsense, Cole! You’ve been a big help. I’m _glad_ that you’re here.” U’Din reassured the spirit. “I know that you’re a spirit that helps people, but I don’t want you to think that’s the only thing you’re good for, or that there’s only one way to help. You being here with me now? That’s helping me. I’m not as queasy as before.”

“Hoot!”

“See? Even Shivehn agrees with me.”

Cole smiled, looking at his feet. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. Why would I lie to you, Cole?” U’Din asked, perplexed.

“Sometimes it’s not lying if you believe what you’re saying is true.” The spirit said, looking down at his hands. “Sometimes it’s not hurting if you know that you’re helping. You say the right words to right hurts. To help them move on. But I know now that what I did at the Spire was wrong. Some people deserved to die, though.”

“Cole?” U’Din prompted after the spirit had started mumbling. Cole looked up at him and blinked. U’Din fidgeted. “Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to stay with me, though. I appreciate it, but I won’t force you.”

“You’re not forcing me. I like being around you. Though it _hurts_ to be around you sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

Cole shook his head. He smiled at U’Din and said, “You don’t have to worry about me. Just let me worry about you. It’s what I’m here for.”

U’Din frowned and looked at the ground. “I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t want to be the only one getting something out of this, Cole. If you’re ever hurting because of something, I want to know so I can help. Even if the reason is me. Okay?”

“You don’t think I’m a demon.” Cole blurted out suddenly, throwing U’Din off. “Why?”

“What do you mean? Why would I think you’re a demon, Cole?” The Inquisitor asked incredulously.

Cole shrugged. “Solas says there’s not much of a difference. And Vivienne calls me that all the time. So does Iron Bull, but he’s not afraid of me. Sera just calls me _Creepy_ , but that’s better than demon, I think.”

“Cole.” U’Din said firmly, waving a finger at him. The spirit stared at it in shock. “Listen to me: whatever you are, you’re _good_. Okay? Not many people risk their lives to help people and not expect anything in return, especially if it’s just for the sake of helping others. You do good work, Cole. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Cole bit his lip. “ _But_ —“

“You’re _good_ , Cole. Believe me.” The Inquisitor interjected. “Person, spirit, demon, whatever you want to call yourself: you’re good. Just remember that, and keep being that. That’s all that matters.”

The rogue stared wordlessly at U’Din for a few moments. Then something funny must have crossed his mind, because suddenly he was smiling strangely. He played with his fingers and started murmuring again.

“ _You did the right thing. You help people. I like that. I’m going to keep watching you._ ” He said. “That was what I said to you back at Val Royeux. Remember? You healed that priest when she was nothing but cruel to you.”

U’Din nodded. Cole continued, “And now you want to help me, the helper. It’s... strange. I’ve been helping people so long that it feels weird to _be_ helped. But you help too, so I guess it _shouldn’t_ be, strange that is. The helper helping the first helper who helped him first.”

“Can’t that happen, though?” U’Din asked. “The helper being helped by another helper?”

“...I think so.” Cole answered quietly before nodding firmly, smiling at the Inquisitor. “Yes. The helper _can_ be helped. By another _helper_. Thank you. You made me realize something.”

“U’Din?”

Another chill passed through him, and in a span of a second, U’Din found himself all by himself. Not even Shivehn was around (how’d he fly off without him noticing?). The blond looked around and saw Ellana looking at him strangely.

“Ellana?” He asked, blinking up at her. “What are you doing here? I thought you were resting.”

“I could ask you the same thing. Who were you talking to?” She raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips.

“I was—“ He turned to where Cole sat before disappearing. He shook his head and waved it off. “Talking to myself. Yeah, that’s it. Just... trying to talk the nausea away. That’s all.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him, obviously unconvinced. But she shrugged and walked a bit closer, making U’Din stiffen in anticipation. When she just leaned over the edge of the boat to look out into the fog, the blond felt himself relax. Then he berated himself silently for thinking the worst of his clansman.

 _‘Not that she ever gave me reason to do otherwise.’_ He thought bitterly, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

The two elves stayed there for a while, silent and brooding—occupied by their own thoughts. One looked at the floor, uncertain and sighing, while the other gazed out at sea, irritable and scowling. U’Din attempted to start a conversation a few times, but he always backed out in the end.

He was so frustrated with himself. Why couldn’t he just _ask_ her? It seemed like a reasonable question to ask: _what have I done to make you hate me so much?_ But U’Din was just so afraid of what would be said—or done— _after_ that that he just couldn’t do it. What if he said or did something that would hurt Ellana? What if Ellana did or said something that would hurt _him_? He doubted the others would appreciate the ship sinking when they were getting close to their destination.

However, if he didn’t start trying _now_ , when would he? How long was he going to let himself be trapped in an never-ending loop of _what if’s_? He needed to start being brave. He needed to start standing up for himself. _He needed to start taking his duty seriously._

 _‘Duty?’_ He blinked at the thought that came from nowhere. _‘What’s that got to do with—‘_

“U’Din.”

He almost jumped. The blond turned to his clan’s First. “Uh, yes?”

She stood up straight, but her gaze never left the fog. “Are you really not coming home?”

U’Din paused before sighing. He scrubbed the floor with his feet. “I told you, I can’t. I have to help get rid of Corypheus. It’s the _only_ way I can make sure that you’re all safe. And everything I do—“

“You’re not supposed to _be_ with the Inquisition. You’re supposed to be with _us_.” She interjected irritably, finally turning to glare down at him. “You—You have a _duty_ to the clan, U’Din. You’re supposed to help pass the stories, take care of the next generation. There are so few of us as it is; we need all the help we can get to reclaim our lost history! And you want to play _hero_ among a bunch of shems that are just going to betray you in the end?”

“I’m not playing _hero_ , Ellana! This was never for glory!” U’Din argued, equally frustrated. “I’m not doing this to get attention. You _know_ I hate that. I’m doing this for the good of _everyone_ , to defeat the psychopath who thinks himself a god! What use is reclaiming our history if we’re going to be doomed to _extinction_ , anyway?!”

“Because this is _not_ what you’re supposed to be doing right now! You’re supposed to stay with the clan where you’re safe and not making a fool out of yourself! I mean, look at you! Need I remind you of what you hide behind your bandages?”

U’Din touched the bandage around his neck and scowled. He gritted out, “So is that what I am to you? A weakling that can’t defend himself?”

“Don’t be stupid, U’Din. It doesn’t matter if you’re weak or not. You’re fucking _sick_. Your chances of dying increase with every injury and wound you take. You already have so _many_ of them! One or two more and you’ll probably _die_.”

“But isn’t that what _you_ want?!” U’Din lashed out at her, eyes flashing with anger and contempt as he stood. “Why are you so concerned, anyway? Don’t you _hate_ me? If the Keeper disapproves of my actions and disowns me, wouldn’t that mean  _less_ competition for you? You should be thankful! I’ll probably _die_ trying to defeat Corypheus, so that means no more U’Din, no more wimp, no more _deadweight_ to bring you down!”

“You fucking _selfish_ shit!” Ellana clenched her fists and snarled at him. “You _really_ don’t get it, do you? You’re not _meant_ to be wasting your time on this! You’re not supposed to be risking your neck for the stupid _shem’len_! You’re—You’re supposed to be waiting to do _something else_!”

“And what exactly _is_ that?!” U’Din bellowed. When Ellana just stood there glaring at him, he growled in frustration. “What’s with all the fucking secrets?! What are you and the Keeper not _telling_ me, Ellana?! Why are you so desperate to get me back? I’m just the _Second_. You’re far more important than I am! So why did the Keeper risk sending _you_ and Mahanon out just to get me? _What the fuck is going on_?!”

“I can’t tell you, U’Din! You’re not— _Mythal’s cunt_ , I said too much.” Ellana murmured to herself angrily, but U’Din managed to catch it, so he just got angrier.

“Ellana. I don’t _care_ what the Keeper told you! Enough is enough!” He shouts, pointing at her threateningly. If the air around him started sizzling with electric sparks, he didn’t seem to notice. “You’re going to _tell_ me what the fuck you two are keeping from me or else, I’m—“

“ _U’Din!_ ”

The two elves were interrupted by the blaring of a horn. Both of them stared wide-eyed at each other, momentarily confused, before looking around to see the ship crew emerging and moving about the deck. They whistled and barked at each other, relaying messages.

“Sound the horn and light the signal fire!” One of the crewmen shouted. “The double wall gates aren’t going to open with a bloody _hello_!”

“Are we here now?” Cassandra emerged from below the deck, with Sera and Solas in tow. They looked like they had just woken from a nap. The Seeker craned her neck and noticed Ellana and U’Din, and she frowned at the way they were standing. Like they had been arguing.

“What’s going on?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you—“

“Ellana? U’Din?” A bleary-eyed Mahanon followed soon after, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He looked at the others and glared briefly in their direction before walking over to the other Dalish. “What happened? I heard something loud and fell off the hammock.”

“It appears that we are arriving soon.” Solas approached the Dalish elves, though he was mostly looking in U’Din’s direction.

Mahanon narrowed his eyes at the hedge mage. “Who asked you, _hahren_?”

Solas raised an eyebrow at the hunter. U’Din blanched. “ _Mahanon_! Don’t talk to Solas that way! That’s rude!”

“But he’s—“

“Hey, elfy elves!” Sera called out. When they turned to look at her, she grinned and pointed in front of her. “Look!”

They did, and everyone went towards the front to get a better look. The fog was starting to thin, giving them a view of large double walls that seemed to stretch out forever on both sides. Only one city in the Free Marches would go through such lengths at security, and it wasn’t surprising after it had suffered such a harrowing Qunari invasion.

“Inquisitor, we’ve arrived.” One of the crewmen announced. “Welcome to the city of Ostwick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of info was taken from the references _Dragon Age: The World of Thedas Vol I and II._ I didn't lift anything directly from the books, but just putting the sources here just in case any of you were wondering if I was making shit up XD Geographically and culturally, I want to be as accurate as possible. Story-wise? Not so much. Obviously :)))
> 
> BUT WHOO THIS CHAPTER IS LONG. Although I _did_ mention that last chapter, didn't I? :)) The Lavellan Clan arc will hopefully end next chapter, with the Winter Palace arc starting directly after. And I'm seriously wishing for that. We're so behind; I want to start revealing a lot of things about U'Din now. :(( but that won't happen until AFTER Adamant. Boo.
> 
> So what did you guys think? Please let me know! Support is really what keeps me going. Although I do appreciate whatever you guys are willing to give me :) whether it be kudos, comments, or just taking the time to read this damn thing. Haha! I'll see you all soon! Love you <3
> 
> NOTES
> 
> Elvhish:  
>  _Vhenas'ral_ : Journey home. From the words "vhenas" meaning "home" and "shiral" meaning "journey."
> 
> Info:  
> 1\. According to _Dragon Age: The World of Thedas Vol I_ , mages don't use magic for mundane tasks. I suppose that just means Circle-taught mages, though. Since, hello, Chantry. :)) hedge mages, apostates and to an extent Dalish mages probably don't care lol.  
> 2\. There's _probably_ a way for the Inquisition to cross to the Free Marches through the Storm Coast, but I wanted the advisors to use the "connections" route. Just imagine that the Inquisition isn't well-equipped with ships yet :))  
>  3\. According to _Dragon Age: The World of Thedas Vol I_ , there are 12 months with different names in the calendar, and "Harvestmere" is one of them. I interpreted the seasons the months belonged to myself, and you can search for the names online :)
> 
> * _Slight_ spoilers for Dragon Age: The Masked Empire*
> 
> 4\. I have no idea whether Lady Seryl is just a random noble from Jader or not. But since the events of The Masked Empire transpired years before Inquisition, I decided to make her marry the Comte of Jader (who was named Gerard in the game). Made up the surname too because why not :))


	32. Blame Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I'VE BEEN AWAY FOR SO LONG. I'M SOOOO SORRY. LIKE, FUCK, I REALLY DUNNO WHAT TO SAY OTHER THAN 'REAL LIFE' AND 'JLPT.' I HAVE NO OTHER EXCUSE. SERIOUSLY :((( I HOPE YOU ALL CAN FORGIVE ME. (DO PEOPLE EVEN STILL REMEMBER THIS STORY--)
> 
> My beta's sick right now, so she couldn't beta-read this for me. I pretty much went through this myself before uploading it, but there might still be a few mistakes that are left. So please forgive that. I... actually forgot how to do this so lmao, please don't mind any mistakes ; u ;

Josephine sighed after signing for the nth time that day, and it was barely even noon. She had been reading and sending letters all day, mostly due to the rapidly approaching negotiations slash masquerade at the Winter Palace at the start of Firstfall. A lot of the letters concerned logistics and preparations—checking in on the Inquisitor’s carriage (yes, the carriage will be pulled by four horses, not _one_ ), his formal attire (no, we do not need to match the color with his vallaslin), and his dance instructor—

“Dance! _Dancing_!” Josephine exclaimed, holding a hand to her mouth. “That means shoes. The Inquisitor needs _dance shoes_. Oh, I have to commission a pair—“

“Did someone say _shoes_?” An amused Leliana walked in just as Josephine started a new letter. “I _love_ shoes. Are we going to talk about shoes?”

“Hello, Leliana. I have no time to chat. I _stupidly_ forgot to commission the Inquisitor’s dance shoes. What’s his size, you think? Err, for his shoes. Yes, that’s what I meant. Wait, we don’t know his size? How can we get him shoes?! Oh, I need to send a missive to _Cassandra_ —“

“Calm down!” Leliana’s words of comfort would have sounded more sincere if she hadn’t been laughing. “I’m sure we can figure out something. He has a few shoes up in his quarters, doesn’t he? We can just look at those.”

“...Yes. _Yes_. You’re right. Of course.” Josephine cleared her throat and tucked a few stray hairs behind an ear. Her momentary composure fell apart after she let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, Leliana. That was foolish; I don’t know why I overlooked that. I feel a little silly now.”

“Don’t blame yourself. You’re just a little stressed out, is all.” The Spymaster smiled a little more sincerely and stood beside the tired Antivan. “But hmm, it’s not like you to get so worked up. And it’s barely even time for afternoon tea.”

“You should have seen me during _morning_ tea.” Josephine griped, picking up the quill and waving it a bit. “I kept picking up the teaspoon like _this_. I couldn’t even mix tea without thinking that I’m _writing_ something. I—I think I’m going a bit mad.”

“Well, a short break might do you some good. As well as some good news.”

“If it’s Dorian taking a break from patronizing the _other_ mages in the Inquisition, I already know about that.”

“He _has_ been a bit quiet lately, hasn’t he? I believe he’s in the middle of some research.” Leliana digressed. Then she shook her head, smile still in place. “But no, that’s not it. I received word from Commander Cullen that the retinue from Tantervale will be arriving in a few hours. I’ve already sent my scouts to meet up with them for added assistance.”

“Retinue? Tantervale? _Oh_!” Josephine put down her quill. “You mean the entourage for arcanist Dagna?”

“Indeed.” Leliana nodded, pleased with herself. Then, she turned somber. “We should count ourselves fortunate. The past decade has taken quite a lot of experts on magic and enchanting, and the Venatori hasn’t been helpful with that issue either. Dagna working with the Inquisition could save thousands of lives—hers included.”

“As well as the Inquisitor’s.” Josephine added, earning a nod from Leliana. A moment’s pause later, the Antivan asked, “Do you really think she could help? With the Inquisitor’s...”

“I don’t think so. Dagna may be one of the few experts on rune crafting and magic theory—arguably the best of them even—but she is no healer. Perhaps she can figure out a way to circumvent the Inquisitor’s condition, but to get rid of it completely? We need magic for that.”

“So it would be a joint effort, then. That is still preferable to the alternative.” Josephine replied. She let out a sigh and stood up from her desk, approaching the hearth. She observed the tongues of fire for a while before speaking again. “Do you think it would be worth it? Bringing her all the way here expended a lot of our resources.”

“I believe so.” Leliana joined her side in front of the fire, her fair face illuminated beautifully by the flickering flames. “I met her briefly during my travels with Surana. She was so enthusiastic, so _fascinated_ with magic, even though she was incapable of having the talent herself. An unlikely scholar, was what we called her. I approved of his decision to recommend her to the Circle of Magic at Lake Calenhad, but I never expected her to actually _make_ something out of that opportunity. Her success was what motivated me to recommend her to you all in the first place.”

The side of Josephine’s lips quirked up. “She must be something else then, if she could surprise even _you_. Speaking of ser Surana, though, did you—“

“I should get back to work.” Leliana announced suddenly, smiling apologetically at Josephine. “The Inquisitor should have arrived at Ostwick already, and I need to standby in case Cassandra sends something urgent.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I should be returning to my desk as well.” Josephine motioned to her desk, not showing signs of noticing Leliana’s deliberate subject change. She smiled at Leliana gratefully and said, “Thank you for the break, though. I needed a bit of levity amidst all this planning for the negotiations.”

“Even advisors have to take breaks,” Leliana said, laughing. “But alas, duty calls.”

The two women bid each other goodbye, and Josephine returned to her desk. After the door shut closed, the Antivan stared at the half-composed letter on her desk and sighed.

Well, she hoped the Inquisitor was having an easier time than she was.

 

* * *

 

U’Din was _not_ having an easy time. At all.

He realized, not for the first time, that he might have bitten more than he could chew with this whole... _Inquisitor_ thing. Not because he deemed himself unworthy (anymore), but because of how ignorant he was of what exactly an Inquisitor was supposed to _do_. Sure, he was aware of the big things: inspiring hundreds of thousands, rallying people to serve a common cause, and vanquishing a powerful megalomaniac. Those were a no-brainer to understand.

But U’Din forgot one other big thing that’s, admittedly, far harder than the aforementioned combined: _politics_.

“Ah, Inquisitor Lavellan!” Came the cheery call of a brunet noble from the docks. He walked up to U’Din just as the latter had stepped onto the pier. “Welcome to Ostwick. We’ve been anticipating your arrival for days now. Can’t say I’m not excited because I _am_. Are you excited? I am! Oh, I just said that twice, didn’t I?”

U’Din hid his discomfort and anxiety well behind a practiced smile. Well, he paid attention to _some_ parts of Josephine’s lectures, at least.

“Thank you. You must be Lord Trevelyan.” U’Din greeted amiably, and they exchanged bows, as was custom. He smiled sheepishly and said, “I hope you weren’t waiting for too long, my lord.”

“Oh, please! Call me Maxwell. Lord Trevelyan is my uncle.” The noble chuckled good-naturedly. “And I arrived only minutes ago, so it’s no trouble, I assure you.”

After U’Din, Solas disembarked next, followed by a relieved Sera who thanked Andraste’s bosom for _land, finally_. The hedge mage rolled his eyes at the archer’s behavior and took a step forward—only to find himself being roughly shoved to the side.

“Oh, sorry, _hahren_. Didn’t see you there!” The redheaded hunter called out over his shoulder and grinned patronizingly. “Walking must be tough for a man your age, huh? How sad. Good thing you have that walking stick. Oh, _vhenan_!”

As Mahanon ran (skipped?) towards U’Din, Sera snorted into her hand and elbowed the scowling mage’s side. “Pfft, _walking stick._ Looks like even Mehammy hates your guts! I’d feel sorry if you weren’t such an arse.”

“Move _your_ arse.” Someone grouched behind her, and Sera yelped as a staff cut between her and Solas, forcing her to move away. Ellana gave her an unimpressed stare and followed after her brother who stood behind U’Din, looking like an overenthusiastic pup.

Sera seethed at Ellana’s back and clenched her fists. “That friggin’ _cunt_ —“

“Sera, behave yourself.” Solas ordered irritably. At her defiant stare, he added, “Do not react so impulsively; getting a reaction like that is something that they want.”

“But you saw what she did! She—“

“ _Does not matter_. Nothing they say should affect you so easily, child. And you should not encourage them by responding to their quips.”

“I’m not a kid! You’re just an old turd! And I _know_ that! That twat is just pissing me off so much because _she’s_ the reason why Droopy—“

“If you two are quite _done_ ,” Cassandra stood in between them and gave both elves a small glare. “We will be heading to the teyrn’s castle now. Since this journey was only possible because of the teyrn allowing us passage here, I suggest that you act as respectable as possible.”

“Yeah, Solas, you should be more respectable and shite.”

“I believe the Seeker is mostly talking to you, _bee chaser_.”

“Ha! Who’s the one responding to quips now, huh?”

“Still you, unfortunately.”

“Oh, _pbbbbbtttt!_ ”

“ _Eugh_.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. _Why_ did she think it was a good idea to bring the two elves along? Solas was generally mild-mannered and polite, but perhaps even _he_ couldn’t ignore Sera’s uncouth behavior. And Sera was just... Sera. It was a nuisance, but they couldn’t do anything about it now. At least Cole wasn’t much of a—

She paused. Where _was_ Cole?

“Hullo.”

Cassandra gasped in alarm when Cole suddenly appeared beside her. She glared and berated him, “Do you _mind_ , Cole?”

He blinked and cocked his head to the side. “Mind what? My mind? _Your_ mind?”

“Ugh. _Never_ mind. Now that you’re here, just stay close. And follow orders.” Cassandra said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are with the Inquisition because the Inquisitor has promised to vouch for you. But let me make this clear: one wrong move and I will not hesitate to—“

“Cut me down. Yes.” Cole interjected, nodding. “If I hurt people, become a demon—please do. U’Din and Solas won’t. They’re too nice.”

“Can’t we just do that _now_?” Sera muttered, narrowing her eyes at the spirit.

The Seeker ignored her and blinked at Cole. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Came Cole’s simple response. “I hope you’re serious, too.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Maxwell approached the group and gestured behind him where the Inquisitor and his clansmen were waiting. “Come now, to the teyrn’s castle! Lord Altham is not going to wait forever, Inquisition!”

“Ah—Yes. Please lead the way.” Cassandra paused to glance at Cole before calling out to the Inquisition soldiers that came with them. “Inquisition!”

“Yes, Lady Cassandra!”

She gave orders for the soldiers to meet them later at the north gate, and for the scouts to go on ahead to establish checkpoints along the way to the Vinmark Mountains. It was the Inquisitor’s job, what she was doing, but she realized that they hadn’t trained him properly for this yet. Cassandra made a mental note to herself to get the advisors to give U’Din exclusive training as Inquisitor. He would surely need it.

“Lady Cassandra?” U’Din asked, tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

“Err,” He looked behind him, and she followed his gaze. There were two carriages waiting for them. “Are we going to ride in those?”

The Seeker blinked and nodded. “Yes. Is there a problem, Inquisitor?”

“Oh. But uh,” He scratched the back of his head and pointed at them. “Do I ride that one? Or _that_ one? I mean, lord Trev— _Maxwell_ is riding in that one over there, and I feel like I should join him since I’m Inquisitor, but I also feel like that’s his private carriage. Should I ask? Or would that make me look stupid? Or... should I already know the answer to that?”

Cassandra sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head in dismay.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Maxwell began amiably. “You were at the Conclave.”

“Ah, yes.” The Inquisitor replied, shifting in his seat. He exchanged quick glances with Cassandra before elaborating, “I was sent by my clan’s First to observe the event. Originally, she was the one my Keeper had ordered to go, but my Keeper had taken ill, so I went instead. My task was to observe the proceedings and find out if elves were going to be an affected party in the decision-making.”

“And then the temple exploded.” The noble concluded for him. At U’Din’s nod, Maxwell hummed and said, “You know, _I_ was supposed to have been there.”

“Really, my lord?” Cassandra asked, surprised.

Maxwell laughed. “Oh, Lady Cassandra, no need for such formality. We’re _distantly_ related, after all. Our families got around quite a bit, eh?”

To U’Din’s surprise, Cassandra made a small laugh. “Very true. We probably have relatives as far as the Tevinter Imperium.”

“In fact we do! Us Trevelyans, in any case. We have distant blood ties to the House of Pavus in the Imperium, for one.”

“Pavus? We have someone in the Inquisition who hails from that house: his name is Dorian. From what I’ve heard, he’s the heir.”

“Really? What a coincidence!” Maxwell laughed for a bit before looking contemplative. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes; indeed, I should have been there. My family has strong ties to the Chantry and Templar Order, you see. A lot of my relatives are either templars or priest initiates. My cousin Evelyn was a templar recruit herself. She went to the Conclave.”

The man didn’t elaborate after that—and neither did he need to. U’Din was aware that he was the lone survivor of the explosion, so it made him incredibly sad and uncomfortable to hear that his host’s relative hadn’t survived. It made him wonder if the man secretly resented him for it.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said solemnly, bowing his head. “Truly. If I could have saved anyone, including your cousin, I would have—”

“Oh, there’s no need for that, Your Worship! You couldn’t have known. And Evelyn passed on fulfilling her duty to her house as well as the Maker. She did our family proud.” Maxwell reassured him.

“She is in the hands of the Maker now. May He and Andraste watch over her from now on.” Cassandra inclined her head respectfully.

“Indeed, I pray for the same.” Maxwell nodded. Then he grimaced. “It just gives me the chills just thinking about it, you know? The only reason I hadn’t gone was because I had a slight cough the night before we would set sail. My grandmother Lady Lucille insisted that I stay behind. She coddles me too much, that old woman.”

“But that coddling saved you, in the end.” U’Din commented automatically, then he regretted it. Did that sound too rude? He hoped not! Oh, where was Josephine when he needed her?

Fortunately, Maxwell took it in stride and laughed. “Yes, it did, didn’t it? I, for one, am thankful for that now!”

U’Din sighed in relief. Cassandra shook her head beside him, smiling fondly.

The rest of the trip was spent making idle chit chat which, honestly, U’Din had no idea what to feel about. It wasn’t that he didn’t like chatting—but everything just seemed more awkward with everything beginning with a “so...” and an “anyway.” And he was talking with the noble whose family had sponsored the Inquisition to the teyrn. One wrong move and he’d offend the entire city!

“But it’s a terrible shame that you’re not staying long, Your Worship.” Maxwell lamented as he placed his hands over his lap. “Ostwick is quite a grand city behind the double walls.”

U’Din smiled. “Perhaps one day I can visit the city on a more leisurely note, lord Maxwell. My clan does live near here.”

“Truly? I know that you’re Dalish, but I never knew that you hail from _here_. You’re a Free Marcher, then?”

“Technically, yes. But I rarely set foot out of my clan’s camp. My Keeper never allowed me to go out unless I was with her or someone she trusted.”

“Protective elderly figure, eh? That I can relate to!”

“Well, I suppose she _was_ particularly protective of me...” U’Din conceded, furrowing his brows in thought.

“Yes. _Protective_.” Cassandra repeated, though with a tone that U’Din couldn’t place.

“Is something wrong, Lady Cassandra?” He asked, perplexed.

The Seeker looked at him, then down at his bandaged hand. Something flashed in her eyes for a brief moment, but it was gone the moment she shook her head and responded, “It is nothing.”

U’Din narrowed his eyes and looked the other way, suddenly feeling defensive. What did he do _now_? Was it something he said? He wished he could just ask, but with Lord Trevelyan in the carriage with them, he’d have to settle with seething quietly at the passing houses outside.

Maxwell looked between them and blinked. He laughed nervously. “Ah, so... Have you ever tried our jellied meats? They're our specialty!”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for going through the trouble of escorting us today, my lord.” U’Din thanked as he bowed in the appropriate Free Marcher fashion. Or at least, he _hoped_ it was the Free Marcher way. It looked so similar to the Orlesian one. Wait, had he been using the Orlesian bow this whole time?

“It is no problem, Your Worship! It’s actually an honor; not many people get to meet and personally escort the _Inquisitor_ , after all.” The noble grinned impishly. “In fact, I should be thanking _you_. You gave me bragging rights that would last till the next family Summer Ball!”

“Psh, suck-up.” Sera muttered from behind Solas.

“Regardless, my lord,” U’Din shifted to glare at her disapprovingly before turning back to Lord Trevelyan. “We appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Maker, you’re a modest one, aren’t you?” Maxwell teased slightly, laughing when the Inquisitor flushed. “Ah, it was only a jest, Your Worship. Modesty is a good quality to have in a good leader. That’s what my father used to tell me when I was younger.

“He also used to say that a good leader is _always_ punctual, so let’s not waste too much time out here. It would be rude to keep Lord Altham waiting, yes?”

U’Din’s eyes followed the noble’s hand as he gestured up at the teyrn’s castle. Nervousness built up inside him, causing him to gulp. He nodded, forcing what he hoped look like a friendly smile on his face.

“Indeed. Let’s... go.”

“Splendid! Just follow me, then.”

The group followed the noble on the way inside, and U’Din started feeling woozy from hearing his heartbeat ringing in his ears. He placed a hand over his chest and tried to calm down, reminding himself that this was _just_ like what happened at Jader with the comtesse. Of course, he spent a lot of time fidgeting and apologizing about everything, so the du Brodeurs probably thought him a joke of an Inquisitor. Oh no, what if he made a fool of himself here too—

“Hey, U’Din, are you all right?” Mahanon appeared beside him, looking concerned.

Taken aback slightly, U’Din nodded. “Ah, yes. Of course, I am. Why do you ask?”

Mahanon glanced down before looking up to meet his eyes again. “Well, you’re shaking, for one thing. Are you nervous?”

“Oh.” U’Din looked down at his hand and saw that he really _was_ shaking. He tried shaking the nervousness away, but even then his hand still twitched every now and then. He sighed. “I guess I am, a little. I don’t really know how these things go, so I’m just worried about embarrassing the Inquisition.”

Ellana snorted behind them. Mahanon gave her a quick look that said, “don’t you dare,” and she just shrugged at it.

“I don’t think you’ll embarrass the Inquisition. You seemed to have done well back at Jader.” The hunter said.

“Really?” U’Din sounded dubious. “But... they were laughing at me. They probably found it hilarious that someone like me became Inquisitor.”

“Hmm, I’d say they were more charmed by you than anything else.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yes. Your personality is more attractive than you think.” The hunter leaned in a little close and gave him a certain look. “ _I_ should know.”

U’Din drew away, forcing a smile. “Uh, thanks, Mahanon, but—“

“Hey, Droopy!” Sera suddenly appeared between them and wrapped an arm around U’Din, earning a disgruntled look from Mahanon. She grinned and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially: “I wonder how much loot we can get from this noble pissbag. What say you? Wanna pick some locks? There’s probably _loads_ of locked doors!”

“Sera, _no_!”

“Come on! Who knows what awesome junk they have stored in here? Place is big enough to fit an entire city; might as well have _something_ valuable in it, yeah?”

“If you steal _anything_ from this place, I’m banning you from the tavern!”

“But that’s where I _sleep_!”

“ _Sera_.”

“ _Pbbt_ , you’re no fun.”

As they got deeper into the castle, U’Din couldn’t help but widen his eyes at the interior. It was certainly not his first time in a castle, of course, but most—if not all—his experiences in them were rather... intense. And life-threatening. _This_ , on the other hand, well. U’Din could get used to this.

The decorations in the castle seemed minimal, but not so much that it was austere. Everything in the castle wasn’t placed there to impress, but to _express_. Comtesse du Brodeur’s estate in Jader had been ostentatiously ornamented to the point of offensive in U’Din’s eyes, but Lord Altham’s castle matched his aesthetic very well.

 _‘I should ask Lady Josephine if we could have marble ornaments in the keep,’_ He thought, straying from the group to appreciate a few lion statues engraved on the facade of the pillars. _‘Maybe something like that, but I’m thinking owls—‘_

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that, after U’Din taking a step back, he accidentally bumped into someone, causing both of them to let out cries of surprise.

“O-Oh, my goodness!” A meek voice squeaked, and almost immediately the owner of the voice fell to the ground and bowed. He looked like a servant. “I—I do _beg_ your pardon, my lord! I-I should have watched where I was going!”

“Oh no, that’s all right!” U’Din interjected, flushing from embarrassment and waving his hand. “Really, it’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention, either. You—“

“Inquisitor!” Maxwell approached the two of them, and the servant froze. “Are you all right? We heard you shout!”

“Oh, it was nothing, Lord Trevelyan! I just accidentally bumped into him, and I really am sorry—“

“Th-The _Inquisitor_?” Came the quiet rasp, but it was loud enough that U’Din turned to look at the servant. The large eyes and pointed ears were clear indication of the servant’s heritage. “I disturbed the _Inquisitor_? Oh, I beg your forgiveness, Your Worship!”

“It’s fine! _Really_!” U’Din reassured the elven servant fervently. The servant looked like he was about to cry, and the Inquisitor felt awful for instilling such fear in the man. “You have nothing to be afraid of. It was an accident. It’s absolutely fine.”

“Are you sure?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow and looked down at the servant who was eyeing the Inquisitor with a little _too_ much intensity. “We can inform Lord Altham about this. I’m sure—“

“ _No_!” U’Din stepped in between the young noble and the servant, drawing shocked glances from the others in the room. Realizing what he had done, he relaxed his posture and added, “I—I mean, that won’t be necessary, Lord Trevelyan. He had no fault in any of this. He was just passing by.”

Maxwell didn’t look convinced. “Still, he—“

“Oh, come on, you heard Droopy! He didn’t mean any of it!” Sera shared her input, drawing disapproving looks from Cassandra (which she ignored). “It was an accident, yeah? Not his fault.”

“Perhaps we can overlook this slight to the Inquisitor just this once.” Solas said diplomatically, though he looked at the servant curiously. “The Inquisitor himself wishes this incident to be left alone. I don’t see why we should be putting much importance to this.”

“True. We have Lord Altham to meet, after all. It wouldn’t be wise to keep him waiting over something insignificant.” Cassandra agreed, though her eyes were trained on the servant.

“See, everyone agrees. No harm done.” U’Din chuckled, looking in Maxwell’s direction and hoping that was enough to convince the noble.

The brunet pondered for a moment before shrugging. “Well, if the Inquisitor doesn’t seem to mind, I suppose we can let it go.”

“ _Thank you_.” The servant breathed, standing up on shaky legs. He looked in the Inquisitor’s direction and fidgeted. “I really am sorry, Your Worship—“

“Please, none of that.” U’Din said kindly. “I’m sure you have other duties to attend to. Don’t let us keep you from them.”

The servant’s large eyes shined with _something_ , and he nodded eagerly. “Y-Yes! Will do, Your Worship! Again, I apologize for disrupting your visit!”

He scurried away, feet light and quiet. The group waited till he vanished around the corner before returning to the matter at hand.

“Well,” Maxwell began. He cleared his throat and smiled, gesturing towards one of the tall doors. “The teyrn is waiting for you in the parlor, Your Worship. If you’d be so kind?”

“Ah, yes.” U’Din nodded. “Please lead the way, my lord.”

Maxwell and U’Din walked ahead, chatting amiably as they passed through the large doors. The rest of the party lagged a little behind, speaking in hushed tones.

“So,” Sera began, facing the others and cracking her knuckles. “We going to look for that sketchy servant or what?”

“Sketchy servant?” Mahanon asked, frowning. “The one that bumped into U’Din, you mean?”

“Uh, _duh_. Did you see any other servant skulking about?” Sera crossed her arms over her chest. “He walked right _behind_ Droopy when there’s _loads_ of space here. Accident my arse.”

“I’m surprised that you were able to sense something amiss.” Solas retorted, raising a brow. Sera stuck a tongue at him, obviously unimpressed with the subtle jibe. “I wouldn’t worry, however. Whatever the servant’s purpose was, it wasn’t to harm the Inquisitor.”

“So you’re saying we just leave it alone? You’ve got to be taking the piss!” Sera argued back, gesturing emphatically. “He’s sketchy. _Screamed_ sketchy. He couldn’t be more sketchy if he had the word _sketchy_ on his forehead!”

“Stop saying _sketchy_.” Cassandra breathed out in frustration. Then she straightened. “Though I’ll have to agree with Sera, Solas. We can’t simply dismiss what happened. The Inquisition has _many_ enemies, after all. Very few people know that the Inquisitor is here, but if that information somehow got in the wrong hands...”

“What did you expect? We haven’t exactly been subtle in getting here. Your soldiers wear the brand of the Inquisition, don’t they?” Ellana inspected her fingernails, seemingly bored. She huffed. “Besides, this is _Ostwick_ —one of the most paranoid shem settlements in the Free Marches, second _probably_ to Kirkwall since the mage rebellion. They wouldn’t have let our ship through the gates if everybody—and I mean everybody, not just the nobles—didn’t already know who you were.”

“My sister has a point. We don’t trade with shems that often, but when we do, we steer clear of Ostwick because of the paranoia.” Mahanon explained. “We do all our occasional trading in Wycome. Though they seemed strange the last time we tried trading with them.”

“Strange?” Cassandra furrowed her brows in confusion. “Strange how?”

“Well, the shems at Wycome were usually congenial, but before we left, the shem traders seemed a bit... off, I would say? Not to mention they looked a little—“

“ _Mahanon_.” Ellana elbowed her brother roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. “ _Venavis._ ”

“That hurt! What I do?”

“Don’t go sharing clan matters with _outsiders_. We don’t owe them anything.”

Cassandra watched the two elves exchange glares, and she contemplated whether to press the matter or not. Eventually, she let the issue go and went back to the former topic. “ _Anyway_ , we can’t be too certain that that servant meant no harm. We should be extra vigilant from now on.”

“You don’t have to.” Cole suddenly piped up, making Sera sneer and Ellana shiver. Mahanon stared at his sister in confusion. “Don’t worry about U’Din. He’s fine.”

“How can you be so sure, Cole?” The Seeker turned to the spirit. “If there’s a plot against the Inquisitor brewing...”

“Oh, there’s none. Not from that servant.”

“And you know this because...?”

Cole hummed and looked down, mumbling to himself. When it was made clear that the spirit wasn’t going to respond, Cassandra let out a frustrated sigh.

Solas observed her for a few moments before saying, “You know, something similar happened in Jader, at the comtesse’s estate. With those other elven servants.”

“Ah, yes, now that you mention it.” The Seeker stopped her pacing and recalled their brief visit at Comtesse du Brodeur’s estate. Then, she frowned again. “Still—“

“I would not worry.” Solas interjected, calm and serene. He watched Lord Trevelyan and U’Din enter the parlor first and smiled. “Perhaps the Inquisitor just has a lot of fans, that’s all.”

“Fans?” Sera snorted, while a certain First behind her snorted much louder. “Droopy has _fans_?”

“Yes.” Solas didn’t miss a beat. Before heading inside the parlor, he turned to glance at Sera. “Aren’t _you_ his fan?”

The archer blinked. “What—“

“I’m a fan,” Cole chirped.

“And aren’t we all?” The hedge mage smiled and walked in before the rest.

 

* * *

 

“What are you grinning at, Sera?” U’Din asked as they traveled along the path to the Vinmark Mountains. “You look more like a loon than usual.”

“Aww, you cut me deep, Droopy! And why can’t I smile at you, yeah? You have a face nice enough to smile at!”

U’Din grimaced and steered Vhenas’ral away from Sera. “Okay, stop it. This is getting a little weird.”

She didn’t let that deter her though and steered her horse close again. “Why is it weird if I’m being a little smiley? Would you rather I’d be _frowny_ at you? Like what Cassandra does?”

“I’m right _here_.”

“I’m not concerned about you being smiley, Sera. I’m concerned about you being smiley _at me_. For no reason. Stop it.”

“Pssh, you’re so ungrateful, Droopy. It’s a wonder how someone so prickly like you has so many fans.”

“...What—“

“But you know what would _make_ me stop? Jellied meats! Reasonable enough exchange, yeah?”

U’Din looked at the blond archer incredulously before sighing, shaking his head. “You know, I should know better by now than to take you seriously, but up until now I _still_ hope that one day you would make sense.”

“Yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, cry me a river, Droopy. Now cough it up! I know you have it with you—“

“Sera, I’ll give you some more later. Lord Altham said not to—whoa, _Sera_! Don’t get too close, Vhenas’ral doesn’t like it when other horses get too close—“

“Then just throw it here! Come on, your aim can’t be that bad!”

“Do I have to _flail_ for you to remember that I have only _one_ functioning arm, Sera? I can’t let go of the reins! I could fall!”

“ _Pbbbbbbtttt_ , oh, oh, I can already see it! Droopy falls on his arse, face first, _kersplatt_! Hahahahaha!”

“...Why am I friends with you again?”

“Aww, because you _love_ me. Admit it.”

“No. Go away.”

“Yes, go away.” Mahanon suddenly entered the conversation, his borrowed horse neighing in protest as he pulled back to trot beside U’Din’s hart. He smiled patronizingly in Sera’s way. “Obviously, U’Din doesn’t want to talk to someone annoying, so why don’t you stay back over there where you’re not seen? Or heard?”

“ _Pbbbbt_ , look who’s talking, pissbag. At least I don’t make everyone want to kill themselves whenever I talk.”

“Shame it doesn’t seem to work on _you_ then, since you’re obviously still alive.”

“Say, Mehammy, do you want to know what it feels like to have an arrow up your arse—“

“You two are idiots.” The Inquisitor sighed between them, giving both equally exhausted and annoyed looks. He gave Mahanon a sharp look. “And no, don’t you dare say you’re _my_ idiot because you’re not.”

“Not anymore,” Sera jeered, cackling when Mahanon seethed.

“You stay out of this, _outsider_.”

“Ooh-hoo-hoo, that hurt you real good, dinnit?”

“I’ll chop you in two if you don’t shut your big mouth—“

“Knock it off, you’re getting too close to Vhenas’ral!”

The hart let out a high-pitched neigh in response, and the two elves begrudgingly led their horses away, glaring at each other all the while. Mahanon muttered something in Elvhen, to which Sera responded with an articulate “ _pbbbbbt_!”

Ellana looked over her shoulder to observe the three elves. Her idiot brother and that archer were bickering, with U’Din as the unfortunate sap stuck between the two. Watching the scene made her feel like looking at a memory—back when Ellana and her brother were bickering over some nonsense, and U’Din was in the same position. Even now, U’Din’s exasperated but fond scowl looked the same.

It made her blood boil. She turned back around.

“Well, look at that. He became the Inquisitor just so that he could start acting like a child again.” Ellana quipped casually, as if she were talking about the looming clouds above them. She huffed. “Not much of a difference, if you ask me. Still whines and makes excuses like one.”

U’Din flinched and deflated at the jab, glaring at the ground. He took in a deep breath before responding, “Don’t mind us, Ellana. Just focus on the road and lead us to the camp. We’ll try not to be too loud.”

“Are you giving me orders?” The First turned her head over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. It was a challenge, obviously, and the Inquisition soldiers close enough to have heard tensed.

“ _No_ ,” U’Din enunciated carefully, though he himself was starting to get foul-tempered. “I was simply giving a _helpful suggestion_. Don’t read too much into it.”

The two elves were locked in a stare-down that seemed to last for hours. Mahanon looked between them in worry, wondering if he should intervene as always, while Sera just casually started throwing a flask that glowed a foreboding orange-red in the air.

U’Din’s eyes flashed, and Ellana’s glare wavered. She huffed before turning back to look in front of her. “Whatever.”

The Inquisitor calmed down and sighed, relieved that Ellana didn’t push. He was afraid that they’d get into another fight, which he wasn’t exactly in the mood for after the one they had on the ship. He recalled the argument in his head and gripped the reins tightly.

_“What the fuck is going on?!”_

_“I can’t tell you, U’Din! You’re not—Mythal’s cunt, I said too much.”_

He sighed and distractedly rubbed the back of Vhenas’ral’s neck. From the way Ellana acted, U’Din guessed that there was something going on that he wasn’t privy to, but somehow involved him. He... wasn’t very surprised about that, if he were to be honest.

He had always known that the Keeper and Ellana were keeping secrets from him. He wasn’t an _idiot_ ; why else had he been kept so close to the Keeper, rarely allowed to venture out unless it was time to migrate or he had supervision? Very often, the insecure side of U’Din had always thought it was some sort of punishment for being different.

But every now and then, the logical side of him took over, and he found himself wondering: _why_ was he kept hidden so much? Why did the Keeper prefer to keep him within their main camp, not even allowing him to visit the others that weren’t even that far away? Why all the supervision? The separation from the others? He often reasoned that it was due to his sickness, but...

His eyes traveled up and settled on the elven mage leading them to the camp. If Ellana sensed his gaze on her, she did her best to ignore it. The Inquisitor’s eyes softened, and he felt a familiar longing coil in his gut as he watched her.

Whatever secrets his First and Keeper kept from him, they were probably far more serious than he could ever imagine. And whatever it was, it made Ellana resent him. He was _sure_ of it.

 

* * *

 

“Solas.”

Solas’ ears twitched at hearing his name, and he turned to see Cassandra looking at him. “Yes, Cassandra? What is it?”

“Let’s fall back a little. I’d like... your opinion on something.”

Her voice had lowered, and she was looking directly in front of them. Solas quickly followed her gaze and landed on the Inquisitor a few feet away. He was busy mediating a quarrel between the two loud elves, so being noticed for lagging behind wasn’t an issue. _Why_ they had to do so, on the other hand, was. He had half a mind to ask what she could possibly want to ask him that she didn’t want to risk the Inquisitor hearing as well.

Which of course meant that the subject of her query would be about the man himself. Interesting. Yet somehow, also troubling.

“Very well.” He replied after a moment, and both of them discreetly pulled on the reins of their respective horses, causing them to slow down their steps. When they were far away enough, Solas asked, “What’s on your mind, Seeker?”

Cassandra let out a sigh and shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. What I have in mind is... disturbing. But you’re the only one whose input I can trust.”

“It’s about the Inquisitor, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But more specifically, it’s about his... _condition_.”

“What about it? Have you and the advisors figured anything out?” Solas kept his voice light, slightly laced with mild curiosity, though deep inside he was trying hard not to react. The subject matter was troubling, but years of experience in Elvhen court and politics trained Solas to always deflect the focus onto the other party to avoid suspicion, so that’s what he did.

The crease between Cassandra’s eyebrows deepened as she considered the question. “No. Several experts on entropy and maladies were contacted in the past month, secretly of course, yet none of them had heard of such a disease. Some had ventured that it could be a new form of blight, but Lord U’Din seems to be in complete control of his faculties. Unless a new type of blight has emerged, one not only allowing sentience but preventing complete deformity, the Inquisitor’s sickness is something entirely different.”

“I’m not surprised. The decaying skin where his wounds are look similar to that of blight-infected victims.” Solas responded. “Perhaps his condition is simply a complex allergic reaction of sorts. Mages can be allergic to magic, after all. Especially if it’s not their own.”

“Truly? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It doesn’t happen often, but it is possible. Magic comes directly from the Fade, and its composition is unknown and always changing. The Inquisitor may have simply been unfortunate enough to be born with a body that rejects certain types of magic, regardless of his talent for it.”

“So it could have been a reaction from the Anchor’s magic, then?” Cassandra looked considering. Then, she shook her head. “No, that cannot possibly be it. From what he’s told us, he’s had this condition since before he came to Ferelden. It’s something different.”

“You have an idea?” Solas ventured, keeping his outward interest academic.

“It’s more of a suspicion than an idea.” Cassandra admitted. She gave the elven mage a careful, searching look. “Tell me, Solas: what do you know of the undead?”

Solas was grateful that he was riding on a horse. If he had been walking, he would have stumbled for sure. He was _not_ expecting that. Not at _all_.

He masked his pause to mean consideration, and he answered calmly a few moments later. “I know many things about the undead, Seeker. Though, truthfully, Dorian would be able to provide you with more information on them. He is a practitioner of necromancy, after all.”

Cassandra frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question, Solas.”

“I know just as much as anyone who deals with them frequently, was what I meant. The information I have on the undead is enough to fight and survive an encounter with them. Other than that, they do not interest me very much.”

“Hm, yes, the limping and the moaning get to you once you’ve lived with it long enough.” The brunette agreed. She sighed and looked in front of her, right where the Inquisitor was. “Basically, they are corpses possessed by malicious spirits, or corpses raised using necromantic powers. They are decaying bodies of flesh that seek to do the summoner’s bidding, or, if possessed naturally, seek to harm every living thing it comes across.”

“Impressive textbook definition.” Solas couldn’t help but quip.

Cassandra ignored him. “Of course, if one has dealt closely with them for an extended period of time, one will find out more. And it helps if one’s uncle is a _Mortalitasi_. From him, I learned that the undead are resilient to cold, but are very weak to fire. Their pain endurance is rather high; they do not feel pain or notice it very much. However, their bodies will be destroyed once the damage they take reaches a certain threshold. Lastly, they persist for as long as the summoner is still alive, or if there is enough ambient magic in the area.”

“Useful information for the battlefield. But I wonder,” Solas braced himself as he turned to Cassandra, expectant. “How does this relate to the Inquisitor?”

Cassandra met his gaze, unimpressed. “Don’t act coy, Solas. You _know_ what I’m trying to say.”

“That’s a gross assumption, Seeker. I do not know what you’re trying to say. All I can do is infer. And based on what you’ve told me, you are probably insinuating that our Inquisitor is, somehow, undead.”

Her hard expression crumbled, and she looked away with a frown on her face. “Well, now that you say it out loud, it _does_ sound preposterous, doesn’t it? But... I grew up in the Grand Necropolis. Around the undead. My uncle kept them as _pets_ —still does. They’re harmless, but they’re mindless. They hurt themselves sometimes, and those wounds never healed. My uncle used his magic or a special paste when they  got too injured.

“I realize that I may sound mad, and maybe I am for making such an insinuation. But the similarities to the Inquisitor’s behavior as well as his method of healing are just... jarring. Once the thought stuck, I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

“Understandable. And in truth, I cannot blame you for making the observation. It really is similar.” Solas paused and looked in front of him. The Inquisitor and the rest seem to be speaking to a scout. From the checkpoint further up, perhaps? “But you do realize how very unlikely that is to be the case, don’t you? For one thing, the Inquisitor is sapient; I’ve never heard of undead that possess intelligence as well as a conscience. Also, while his sickness closely resembles decomposition, he exhibits normal bodily functions. The hunter and the First have admitted to growing up with him; if he were undead, how is it possible that he could age?”

Cassandra let out a disgruntled noise, but she nodded. “All right, all right. I understand your point. But I do feel like linking his sickness to the undead is as close as we could get to finding a cure. Even if he _isn’t_ undead, his sickness could be related to them. Perhaps he was cursed as a child? Bitten by one? Who knows. Visiting his clan and speaking with his Keeper could give us the answers that we need.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you allowed him to visit his clan? To obtain answers?”

“Why _else_ would we risk bringing the Inquisitor all the way to the Free Marches?” Cassandra snorted, insulted. She then cleared her throat and continued. “Well, we _did_ indulge him since this is important to him, but it will serve a different purpose as well. Visiting the Inquisitor’s home would provide useful information, indeed.”

“Seeker, are you saying you’re going to _spy_ on the Inquisitor’s clan?” Solas was incredulous, but he was more amused than anything.

“Oh, please. I didn’t get to where I am by simply breaking down walls and hitting things. I am aware of the importance of research and study.” She huffed. Turning to Solas with a curious look, she added, “Besides, are _you_ not curious, as well? About the Inquisitor’s home?”

If the question took Solas aback, he didn’t show it. “Curious enough to welcome the opportunity to see where he lived. But not enough that I would go out of my way to make it happen.”

“Really? I thought you’d be more... excited to be here.”

“And why would that be, Seeker?”

Cassandra frowned at him, confused. “Aren’t you and the Inquisitor—“

They heard a loud, trumpet-like cry, surprising them both. They turned their gazes forward where they caught sight of Ellana, Mahanon and U’Din speeding through the trees. Sera and Cole gave chase; the former shouting profanities along the way. The Seeker’s eyes widened, and she quickly led her horse to the group near the checkpoint, Solas following suit.

“What happened?!” She demanded, looking at everyone intensely. She turned to one of the scouts. “You! Where did the Inquisitor and the others go?”

“Lady Cassandra, terrible news!” The elven scout exclaimed, gesturing to another scout who was on the ground, heaving in exhaustion. “We sent a group of scouts ahead to search for the Lavellan camp before you get here, just to make sure that everything’s fine. But Brent over here came back running and—“

“What?” Cassandra demanded. “What is it?!”

“The Dalish camp, Lady Cassandra!” The scout gulped. “It’s being attacked by a group of bandits! And they’re _very_ well-armed!”

 

* * *

 

“THIS IS ALL _YOUR_ FAULT!”

“ _MY_ FAULT? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“IF YOU HADN’T GONE AND PLAYED HERO, WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS MESS! NOW THE CLAN’S UNDER ATTACK AND WE DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON AND—“

“HOW IS THIS _MY_ FAULT? YOU THINK I SENT THE BANDITS THERE? YOU THINK I _WANTED_ THIS TO HAPPEN? YOU MUST THINK SO LOWLY OF ME IF YOU THINK I’D WISH THIS UPON THE CLAN!”

“WISHING IS DIFFERENT FROM CAUSING, YOU IGNORANT SHIT! IF YOU HAD JUST COME BACK WHEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO, WE COULD HAVE BEEN THERE. AND THE CLAN WOULD HAVE A BETTER CHANCE TO DEFEND ITSELF!”

“BLAMING THIS ON ME WON’T CHANGE THE PAST, ELLANA!”

“IT WON’T, BUT IT’LL BE ON _YOUR_ HEAD IF ANYONE DIES!”

“HEY! YOU TWO! _QUIT IT_!” Mahanon shouted over their argument as they raced through the trees to get to the camp. “I know you two are _fucking_ stressed right now, but if you have time to play the blame game, you have time to _get a move on_!”

Ellana growled but followed her brother’s advice. She sent U’Din a venomous look before kicking the sides of her horse, causing it to neigh and run faster. U’Din watched as she sped ahead, and he tried not to let her words get to his head.

_It’ll be on your head if anyone dies._

He let out a loud cry and cued Vhenas’ral to ran faster, and the red hart increased its speed, effortlessly leaving behind the others.

“U’Din! You fool!” Ellana shouted after him. “You don’t know where the clan is! Don’t run ahead!”

“Droopy!” Sera cried out, growling in frustration. “Friggin’ temper of his!”

“ _Shouldn’t have left, should have stayed. Should have kept the bad away. I failed. I_ failed _._ ” Cole whispered fervently to himself. He looked up and shook his head. “No, no, you didn’t. Please don’t—”

“Hey, Creepy, stop talking to yourself and _move your arse_!” Sera growled at him, cueing her horse to speed up. She and the rest navigated through the trees, listening as shouting, metal clanging and _chaos_ started getting louder and louder.

“Droopy,” She whispered, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t do anything scary, you hear me.”

 

* * *

 

U’Din had no idea where he was going, and in hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have run ahead without Ellana to lead the way. But his ears rang painfully as screams and shouts got louder and louder, and he swore he could practically _taste_ the iron-tang of blood in the air. The thought of his clansmen’s blood spilling threatened to push whatever was left of his rationality over the edge, and he begged Vhenas’ral to run faster, please, please, _please_.

When he jumped over a short ravine, his eyes landed on a corpse—and his blood turned cold.

It was an elf.

Vhenas’ral cried out in protest when U’Din suddenly pulled the reins, and it snorted unhappily as the blond practically jumped off of him. The blond knelt beside the corpse, his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears as he turned the corpse around—

He screamed. It was one of his clansmen. One of the hunters— _Feram_ , it was Feram and he was _fucking dead_. Frantically, U’Din tried to get away from the corpse, and just before he was about scream again, he heard someone _else_ scream. It was clear, crisp. Almost as if it was nearby.

Vhenas’ral cried out as he sped through the trees, adrenaline rushing through his veins. His legs seemed to move faster, his body blurring with the trees and foliage till he was but a harsh, white light. He reached a clearing, and his body become solid once more.

“Hey! Who’s that?!”

His eyes widened in horror as he watched chaos unfurl in front of him. Armored men fought with a few Inquisition soldiers and elven hunters— _his clansmen_. The tents and aravels were in the camp were either smashed or burning, and bodies— _bodies, bodies, so many bodies_ —littered the camp. Most of them were elven.

“Inquisitor!” One of the Inquisition soldiers cried out, obviously injured. “We tried to fend them off, but there’s just so many! They appeared out of nowhere—“

“Inquisitor?! What the—well, what’re you arseholes standing around for?!” One of the armed bandits barked, pulling out his sword from where he struck an elven hunter. “Kill this sorry sod before— _gaaaah_!”

In a flash, lightning from U’Din’s staff pierced the bandit, passing through him and hitting a few others. The attack made the bandits shout and gather together to deal with the new threat.

“What’s the Inquisitor doing here?! The duke never said anything about _this_!”

“Who cares about that? Let’s rip him to pieces!”

“Yeah, _get him!_ ”

The bandits charged through the few Inquisition soldiers present with their swords high in the air, ready to tear U’Din apart. But time seemed to slow down for the Inquisitor, and he heaved as his eyes wildly surveyed the scene. The aravels were still burning, elves desperately trying to put them out now that the bandits focused on U’Din. He saw some huddled together, afraid, crying, but looked at him with recognition. The bandits drew closer, stepping on the bodies of his fallen clansmen. Uncaring, unapologetic.

U’Din saw _so much red_.

“ _DIE_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA I really don't seem to want to give U'Din a break, huh? Lol. This was really part of the story, though. And I'm sure you guys had seen this coming anyway. XD I had hoped that this chapter would be the end of the Lavellan Clan arc, but that was too ambitious. There was too much to write. This arc will most likely end in the next chapter where we'll get answers from the Keeper. Excited? Lol yesss
> 
> Again, really sorry about my absence. :( I'll try to make up for it by updating more frequently like I used to! I missed you guys and this story so much. Being back makes me so happy and I'm actually tearing up a bit AHU
> 
> Anyway, I hope the chapter was up to par! I admit it's not one of my favorite chapters, but hopefully it's good enough. Ughh, I really lost my touch ugh ugh ugh. Thanks for taking time to read, though, as well as leaving comments and kudos. I appreciate it ; u ; Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> NOTES
> 
> Elvhish:  
>  _Vhenas'ral_ : Journey Home  
>  _Venavis_ : Stop
> 
> Info:  
> 1\. There's really no name for the teyrn of Ostwick, so I just gave him a random one lol


	33. The Answers You Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kiiiindaaa long. And it was actually supposed to be even longer because I had planned like, two-three more scenes here. But my beta was like NO, DON'T OVERLOAD PEOPLE'S BRAINS and I'm like, FINE. So yeah, here you go. Reading it now, I think it's better this way. But I'm still bummed because UGH that means a few more scenes get pushed. I'm starting to get really conscious of the length of this thing, you see. ._____.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :3
> 
> Not beta'd yet, but Rikka will look at this and edit things herself. She's busy with her internship right now /waves friendship flag/ GO BFF!

_People were screaming. The crystal arches fell apart after a wave of magic hit them, and they crushed citizens running to their escape. The village was engulfed in flames and blood—all red. So red, even the smoke was red. And_ their _eyes were red, too. Lifeless, but dangerous and hungry._

 _He watched the village burn and clenched his fists, biting his lips to keep the sobs at bay. This was his fault. If he only came sooner, the people in this village would have had the chance to escape. If he only came_ sooner _!_

_“We cannot save them!” Someone shouted next to him, grabbing on to his arm and pulling him away from the heart-wrenching scene. “We must go! Now!”_

_“No! We can still save them! And I refuse to let him win! We—“_

_“If you stay here, you will die! And we can’t let that happen!” The voice yelled at him, and a robed figure appeared in front of him. He wore a silver mask that looked like an owl’s face. “We have to leave! Please, I beg of you!”_

_He would have answered, but an explosion shook the ground, momentarily disorienting them. The marbled column on their right started to fall, and directly on top of him, too. He watched, paralyzed, as the column slowly descended on him. For a moment, he thought it was over._

_A rough push made sure that it was not._

_He groaned in pain and held his shoulder as he lifted himself from the ground. The vertigo soon disappeared, and he blinked, wondering where the column went. He turned his head around, and he saw it a few feet away, lying on the ground where... where..._

_He froze. Then, he opened his mouth—_

 

* * *

 

—and screamed.

He struck the ground with his staff, causing a brief quake to rattle and displace the bandits. Once they were disoriented, he shot lightning out of his staff, striking at one of the bandits. The lightning bounced and struck at the other bandits nearby, causing a chain reaction. Realizing what they were getting into, the bandits’ bravado fell.

The rest left standing tried to get away, but he froze and crushed their legs, heedless of their pained cries. He placed glyphs on the ground that blew up every time someone stepped on it, and they would be coated in red, hot flames. U’Din’s face was painted red from fire and blood, and his eyes blazed with blinding fury.

They will pay. _They will pay_.

A glyph exploded, launching a bandit in the air. He fell to the ground with a thud and a loud crack, and he cried out in pain. He lifted half of his body off of the ground, and he looked around him—corpses of bandits everywhere. He let out a terrified squeal and crawled away—but he stopped when the head of U’Din’s staff appeared mere inches away from his face.

His lips quivered as he begged, “P-Please, have mercy—“

Lightning shot from the sky and struck both of his legs. The human screamed, blood spurting out from his mouth, and his legs sizzled and steamed from where the lightning hit. The ground beneath him became wet, and he stared down to watch the pool of his own blood grow larger and larger. He looked up at the Inquisitor with eyes full of fear, and U’Din raised his staff to deal one last, killing blow—

Suddenly, the bandit’s legs were covered in ice, and the blood completely stopped flowing. He narrowed his blazing eyes in confusion. _How_ —

“ _Da’len_!”

U’Din paused. _That voice_. He turned around to face the source of the call, and his eyes widened in recognition. They also lost the intense blaze, leaving behind the usual hue of pale violet.

“K- _Keeper_?”

The old woman appeared, seemingly out of breath as she stood in front of the other elves left in the ruined camp. U’Din took the opportunity to look at all of them, seeing expressions mixed with relief and fear.

 _Fear._ He looked down at his staff in horror and dropped it on the ground.

“I—“ U’Din struggled to find the words as the adrenaline from before started disappearing, allowing him to think more logically. He recalled his actions, how he attacked everyone in sight, showing none of the mercy he usually had, even for enemies.

_But they attacked what was ours!_

_Still, they—_

_Look around you. Would you really have let them get away with this?_

He rubbed his hand over his face in exhaustion and grief, and he looked down at his gloved palm to see blood that wasn’t his. Disgusted with himself, he wiped the blood off on his clothes almost desperately, and he recoiled when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

“Da’len,” Came the Keeper’s quiet and soothing voice. The sound of it made his heart break, and she shushed his sobbing with a finger. “Ssh, it’s all right. You did nothing wrong.”

“S-So why did you stop me?” He asked, voice breaking.

“Because we had to—“ Her eyes strayed from his for a moment, and they widened briefly before closing. She sighed and walked away from him to approach the frozen bandit who showed no signs of life.

He was dead. From the blood loss, most definitely. The Keeper shook her head at that and sighed.

“Keeper?” U’Din asked, feeling strangely small in the presence of his clan leader.

She looked as if she was about to speak, but a distant sound of galloping caught their ears. They turned to the sound of the noise and saw a red hart jump through the foilage, crying out its trumpet-like neigh and stomping at the ground. The elves started to whisper among themselves, pointing at the creature in curiosity.

“Vhenas’ral?” U’Din gawked as the hart approached him, butting his chest with his head. “Where did you—“

“ _Inquisitor_!”

More galloping sounds, and from the distance U’Din saw Cassandra leading the group towards him. He watched as if in a daze, realizing that he had momentarily forgotten about them.

“Lady Cassandra,” He breathed as the Seeker stepped down from her horse. “I—“

“What in the _World_ were you thinking?!” She shouted at him, poking his chest with a strong finger. The hart backed away from the two of them, snorting in displeasure. “Running off like that without us! What if you were hurt? You didn’t know how many you’d be dealing with! _We_ encountered more on the way here!”

U’Din bit his lip and looked down, chastised. “I—“

“Seeker, need you degrade the Inquisitor in such a fashion?” Solas came up to them to act as referee. But when his gaze landed on U’Din, he could not help show his disapproval, as well. “But the Seeker is right, Inquisitor. What _were_ you thinking?”

“He wasn’t!” Sera came up and jumped off of her horse, stomping her way to the blond mage. “Your friggin’ hart thing was so loud that bandits appeared and attacked us! Thanks a lot, Droopy!”

“That’s _not_ the point!” Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “He shouldn’t have went ahead _because_ he could have gotten injured! We had no idea how many of them were here, and if he gets—“

“ _You_!”

Cassandra cried out as she was pushed away quite roughly, but it was more out of surprise than anything else. The one who had pushed her away was none other than Ellana whose eyes were wild and blazing. Then, without warning, she slapped U’Din soundly across the face.

Cassandra gasped, “What are you doing?!”

Sera growled and cracked her knuckles, “Why you _little_ —“

“Ellana!” Mahanon ran towards them and tried to pull her back. “Ellana, stop it! He didn’t deserve that! This wasn’t—“

“ _Your_ fault! This is your _fault_!” She screeched as she broke away from her brother’s grasp to shake U’Din, spittle flying and hitting him in the face. But he just stood there and let her manhandle him, broken and dazed. “If you hadn’t gone and played _fucking_ hero, this would never have happened! We would be here, we could have prevented this! We could have helped, and nobody would have been—“

“Ellana, _vhenavis_!” The Keeper came between them and pushed them roughly away from each other, applying more force to Ellana’s side than U’Din’s. She gave him a brief once-over, noting his blank stare, before turning back to the seething First with a reprimanding glare. “Da’len, you know perfectly well that U’Din cannot get hurt. What if you had broken skin? You would worsen his condition.”

“But Keeper! He—“

“That’s quite enough, da’len.” The old woman interjected, hardening her gaze. “I’m disappointed in you. You should know better than to let your temper get the best of you. Now stand down and apologize.”

“Oh, I’ll _apologize_ to him, all right!” Ellana growled and raised her fist. “Starting with _this_ —“

“ _Sister_!”

“ _Inquisitor!_ ”

Before her fist could connect to U’Din’s face, the Keeper’s hand reached out and grabbed her wrist with lightning speed. Ellana looked taken aback, gawking at the Keeper, before crying out in pain. The old woman just sent a mild, but still rather painful jolt up her arm, paralyzing it.

“K-Keeper,” She wheezed out pitifully and grabbed the Keeper’s hand with her free one, silently pleading for mercy. “You—“

“I _said_ ,” She enunciated the word slowly, carefully, and for a moment her eyes flashed a strange color. “Stand _down_.”

Ellana’s eyes showed a tinge of fear before it morphed into anger and resentment instead. She nodded, and she was released from the Keeper’s hold. Her right arm became limp from the shock, and she let out shallow breaths.

“Now,” Deshanna began, holding up her staff to hit the scorched, bloodied earth. She used it to gesture towards U’Din whose eyes were empty and downcast. “I believe you have something to say, da’len.”

Ellana gripped her limp wrist, moving it around to try and shake off the paralysis. She looked at the Keeper, then at U’Din. Her eyes burned with rage, hatred, and maybe something else. The First gritted her teeth and let out the bottled-up frustration and anger through her screams.

Mahanon’s eyes were full of sorrow and pity as he regarded his sister. He sighed and shook his head. “Oh, Ellana.”

“Why do you favor him so much?! What makes him so _special_?!” She screamed and went up to the Keeper, their noses almost touching as she raged and pointed at U’Din. “If it weren’t for _him_ , Mahanon and I wouldn’t have had to leave the clan to bring his pathetic ass back home! Now the clan’s been attacked, and we weren’t able to help _anyone_ because this piece of _shit_ wanted to help _other people_ instead!”

Ellana’s words were like pellets of scorching iron that seeped painfully into U’Din’s skin, unveiling burnt flesh of self-doubt and loathing. He had forgotten how it felt to be ashamed, to think of himself as a failure, so now the accusations jarred him more than they ever did. He tried to tune out his former friend’s hateful words, he really did, but perhaps he had a sick, morbid addiction to pain, so he continued to be stung by the barbed words.

This was his fault. This was _all_ his fault, because if he hadn’t stayed with the Inquisition, his clan wouldn’t have met such a horrible fate. If only... if _only_ —

_If only he came sooner._

“That’s _enough_ , Ellana.” Deshanna stopped the First on her tirade before she accidentally lit something on fire. Or _someone_. “You _know_ why we have to protect U’Din. I don’t have to explain to you anymore than I already have.”

“So I should just let it _go_? You were the one who got angry at me when I made him go to the Conclave in the first place!”

“Because it should have been _you_ who went, not him! U’Din would be more than capable to look after me, Ellana, and he would have been safe _here_. But you chose to send him to another _continent_ when he’d never ventured too far from the clan before. If I had known better, I’d say you sent him away on purpose.”

“And what if I _did_ , Keeper? What if I sent him away because he’s just—“ Ellana turned to where U’Din was, and their eyes met. Their gazes lingered on one another for a moment before the First tore her eyes away, barely able to hold back her tears. “This is unfair, Keeper! He gets so much special treatment! But _I’m_ the First! Me! _Me_! Yet you coddle him and teach him the old tongue and script and I’m here and... and...”

“Ellana,” Mahanon approached his sister right after she fell on her knees, unable to carry the burden of her bottled-up emotions. In a rare moment of intimacy, Ellana reached out and clung to her brother, sobbing into his abdomen.

“It’s not fair! It’s just not _fair_!”

The clearing was silent, save for Ellana’s woeful sobbing and the occasional shuffling from everyone present. The Lavellan clansmen gazed at their First with pity, while some were looking in U’Din’s direction, expressions mixed with wariness and uncertainty. On one hand, they were grateful that their Second had come back and saved them, but on the other hand, he stayed away from the clan of his own volition.

Deshanna noticed the clan staring and starting to whisper among themselves and sighed. She watched Ellana for a moment, eyes filled with sympathy, before turning to Cassandra.

“You are Cassandra Pentaghast, I assume?” The Keeper began, taking the Seeker aback for a moment. At her nod, Deshanna continued, “I thank you and your allies for bringing back our U’Din, and for taking out the stragglers that were lying in wait around the camp. These bandits most likely waited for me to leave the camp before striking, though I have never heard of a group of bandits this organized. This was the third attack this week.”

“ _Third_ attack?” Cassandra asked incredulously, and U’Din turned his head to gawk at the Keeper. “You mean this isn’t the first time your camp has been raided?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” She nodded gravely. Her eyes shifted towards U’Din before she turned to face the clansmen present. “Everyone, I’m afraid staying at this camp is no longer a wise decision. This third ambush has proven that. We’ll have to move to the other one west of Markham.

“Pack everything you can salvage and be ready to move out soon. Make sure to bring the dead, as well; we’ll prepare a proper ceremony for them once we get to the other camp. Also, I need two of you to search for the halla. They must have been so frightened.”

The elves gave out collective sighs of exhaustion and disappointment, but they nodded their assent. Slowly, they started to disperse and head back to the ruined camp, talking amongst each other as they split in groups to make packing up easier. As everyone got busy, she turned back to them and focused her gaze on the two siblings. Ellana had gone quiet, staring blankly at nothing.

“Mahanon, you and your sister should help the others. It’ll help move things faster.” She ordered quietly. “I’ll speak with the Inquisition before we leave.”

“Yes, Keeper.” Mahanon nodded, standing up and lifting his sister so she could stand. She started walking wordlessly, passing by U’Din as if he didn’t exist. He followed her, but forced a strained smile as he passed by the Inquisitor. U’Din tried to return the smile, but he found that he had no energy to do so.

“I realize that you may have questions,” Deshanna began once the pair had walked out of earshot. “But unfortunately, this takes priority. You may accompany us back to one of our other camps, though I’m afraid it’s much smaller. This here was our main camp.”

“Camps? You have more than a few?” Cassandra asked.

Her smile was rueful as she responded, “Did you expect us to fit over two hundred in a single camp? Not only is that a tactical oversight, but it draws too much attention. It’s also much more convenient to place smaller camps near where herds of ram graze, though we don’t place them _too_ far. Great Bears have great numbers here.”

Cassandra blinked. “I was not aware that the Dalish had such a scheme. Though I’ll admit, I’ve had very few encounters with Dalish elves.”

Deshanna smiled, despite herself. “I never expected you to, Seeker Pentaghast. We keep to ourselves most of the time, though I cannot speak for our other brothers and sisters in other clans.”

“From what I’ve observed in my travels, Dalish clans usually split themselves into smaller groups, most likely to ensure higher chances of survival. The camps are typically specialized and are placed strategically near each other.” Solas added to the discussion, ever the expert in all things elven. “Camps that humans usually see are the main ones where the Keeper and most abled clan members are located. Hidden in other smaller camps are the elderly and the children, as well as the artisans, some hunters and most of the craftspeople.”

“Impressive. You seem to know a lot about us, clean-faced one.”

“Keeper,” U’Din joined the conversation before Solas could respond; his tone curt. His eyes were hardened with suspicion and hurt. “The clan was being attacked? Why did I not know this?”

Deshanna considered U’Din for a moment before holding her staff close to her. She looked at the Inquisitor’s left side, noticing its emptiness, before meeting the younger elf’s gaze again. “When did you lose your arm, da’len? And why did _I_ not know of it?”

“Keeper, that’s different and you know it.” He sounded tired and pleading—and he was. “We could have _helped_ you much sooner if you sent word to the Inquisition! We pulled out the scouts from before, and because of that we—“

“It is not different. You _know_ the limits of your body. I’m surprised it hasn’t killed you, da’len.” Deshanna interjected somewhat harshly, though it lacked the same fire that U’Din was used to. All the same, U’Din flinched, and she gave him a sympathetic look at the sight. “I understand that you’re probably blaming yourself for this, but what’s done is done. And you couldn’t have possibly predicted this. You are here now, and that’s what counts.”

“He is not to stay, however,” Cassandra was quick to point out, crossing her arms over her chest. “The Inquisitor still has a lot to accomplish if he is to rid the World from Corypheus, and while we sympathize with your situation, him staying here is _out_ of the question.”

The Keeper’s eyes flashed very briefly at that, but only Solas was able to catch it. He looked at the woman curiously as she spoke, “You ask too much, Cassandra Pentaghast. Has my Second not done enough for you?”

“He’s not just your _Second_ anymore. He’s the _Inquisitor_ , and as such he’s—“

“Keeper,” An elven woman came up to them, carrying what seemed to be a sack of tools. _Crafting_ tools. U’Din stared at the sack, wide-eyed, and started searching the camp with his eyes. “We’ve packed everything that we could save, and the dead have been wrapped. Lenra and Fyorel had already gone ahead with the halla.”

“Good. Have everyone start moving.”

“Yes, Keeper!” She nodded. The girl sent one fleeting look in U’Din’s way, smiling a little in greeting, before going back to the others.

“We can continue this back at the camp. It’s not that far, but you may want to take your mounts.” The Keeper said. With a nod, she turned to join the rest of the clan on their way to the other camp.

“Keeper!” U’Din ran up to her, joining her in step. When she paused to look at him, he turned to the disheveled camp, searching for someone. “This—This is the main camp, isn’t it?”

“Have you been gone so long that you do not recognize it anymore, da’len?” Her query was light, but U’Din couldn’t help but feel hurt at the implication. “But to answer your question, yes. Why do you ask?”

U’Din stood on his tiptoes to get a better look at the camp. He searched the camp for someone slim, face wrinkled, with faded brown hair held up in a high ponytail. Unsuccessful, he frowned and turned back to the Keeper. “I was just wondering—where is hahren Alayna? Is she back at the other camp? I don’t... see her.”

His words faded when he saw his Keeper’s face fall, eyes filled with regret and sadness. Dread filled his blood as she shook her head, turning away from him. “No. No, that can’t be. Please, Keeper, _anything_ but that!”

“I am sorry, U’Din.” The Keeper apologized softly, walking away from him. She did not see him fall on his knees. “I am so sorry.”

“U’Din?” Solas ran up to his side the moment he saw him fall. The others followed and crowded around him, too. “U’Din, are you all right?”

“Oh no,” Cole despaired, closing his eyes and sighing. He bent down and placed a hand on the blond’s shoulder to comfort him. “Please don’t think it’s your fault. Please _don’t_.”

“What’s not his fault?” Sera moved around till she was right in front of the Inquisitor. She grabbed the other shoulder and started shaking him. “Hey, Droopy, snap out of it! What’s wrong? _Hey_!”

Cassandra looked crestfallen as she watched the two try to illicit responses from him. Solas stood beside her, eyes focused on U’Din.

The Seeker looked around the ruined camp and sighed. “It never ends, does it?”

“No,” Solas answered, shaking his head. “It never does.”

 

* * *

 

The walk to the camp west of Markham was quiet and awkward. It also lasted too long for anyone’s tastes, especially U’Din’s. His companions had tried to get him to talk (“Inquisitor, I’ve had agents run ahead to the other camp. They’ll make sure your other clansmen are safe.”), or at least get him to meet their gazes (Sera tried stealing from him to get his attention, and only stopped because there was nothing else left to steal in his satchel), but the Inquisitor kept his head ducked, letting Vhenas’ral lead the way.

The closest to getting him to speak was Solas. He had positioned his horse to walk beside U’Din’s hart, watching the blond stare emptily at nothing. The hedge mage thought about what to say, or if he should even say anything at all. Eventually, he decided to just reach out with a tentative hand, squeezing U’Din’s shoulder to comfort him.

U’Din didn’t raise his head, but he placed his hand on top of Solas’, giving it a small squeeze in return. No words were needed after that.

(A little ways away, Cole smiled, albeit briefly.)

By the time they made it to the camp, the sun was heading to its descent behind the horizon, though it was still the afternoon. From the distance they could see that the camp, small as it was, was alive with activity, and there were a _lot_ of children. The camp with the nursery, then. U’Din wondered if there had been children at the main camp, but he stopped himself there. If there had been, he didn’t notice any. And he didn’t need any of their deaths to pile on top of his master’s.

He sighed shakily, letting a few tears fall down his cheeks. Hahren Alayna. He missed her so much, and she was one of the people he had been looking forward to seeing again. Would she have welcomed him home with open arms? Or would she have hit him at the back of the head first, berating him for making her worry? Knowing her, she would have probably done both.

But now, it seemed that Fate had just robbed him of the opportunity to find out. Life was so unfair.

 _‘Is this what I have to give up?’_ He thought morosely as he fiddled with the glowing ocarina hidden in his coat. He stared at its eerie greenness. _‘Didn’t I become Inquisitor to protect my clansmen in the first place?’_

His thoughts were put to a halt as they got close enough to the camp. They traveled behind everyone else, so the Lavellan clan arrived at the camp first. Everyone at the camp stopped what they were doing to greet the new arrivals, and they all seemed shocked and saddened by demise of the main camp and some of their members. Some of those who had died were parents to some of the children, and those affected had started crying.

A little girl was comforting her friend in her arms when she decided to look up, eyes glassy from the awful news. She saw another group arriving at the camp, and they were all unfamiliar. Squinting, she tried to discern who they were, and then gasped when she saw a familiar face.

“Brother U’Din?” She gasped, and everyone around her paused. Slowly, a grin started forming on her face, and the tears that had welled up in her eyes fell. “Is that Brother U’Din?!”

Almost immediately, everyone’s mourning was cut short at the child’s cry. The clansmen at the camp shifted their focus towards the back where, indeed, U’Din and the rest of the Inquisition had caught up. There was a delay in their response to this unforeseen event, mostly from shock and the lingering pain of loss, but eventually, joy replaced grief.

“It can’t be—“

“But it is! It’s _U’Din_!”

“But why is he back? He’s the Inquisitor, isn’t he?”

“He looks so different!”

“Is that a _hart_?”

U’Din had just gotten off of Vhenas’ral when he was suddenly crowded with people who were bombarding him with greetings and questions. His breath was quite literally knocked out of him when small, noisy children started to tackle his legs and climb up his back. Despite the strain on his back and his bad leg, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their antics.

“ _Hey_ ,” He began breathily, patting some on the head to calm them down. “One at a time. And no climbing! I didn’t suddenly become a tree in the months that we’ve been apart.”

“Brother U’Din!”

“We missed you!”

“What happened to your other arm? It’s gone!”

“Did you lose it to a _bear_?”

“Did you fight bears in the other continent?”

“Are you staying? Please tell us you’re staying!”

“Children, please, I said one at a time!” U’Din reminded, looking fondly exasperated as the children reluctantly stopped trying to pester (and climb) him. Just when he thought he was off the hook, he was bombarded by the older members of the clan next.

“U’Din, it’s so nice to have you back!”

“Will you be staying? We heard that you became Inquisitor!”

“What _did_ happen to your arm? That must have been an awful experience. You poor thing!”

“Mythal’s bosom, are the shem’len even feeding you? You look so thin!”

“Alayna would have loved to see you, da’len. Rest her soul.”

U’Din’s head swiveled left and right as each clan member spoke. Some members, particularly the elderly, went up to pat him on the back or shoulder, while the rest just stayed back and gave him welcoming smiles. It was overwhelming, touching—but mostly it was confusing. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling _happy_ about the clan welcoming him home! Some of his clansmen had _died_ , and if it weren’t for him—

“Everyone, please give our Second some space. Even the only hope of Thedas needs to breathe.” Keeper Deshanna cut in through the crowd and motioned for everyone to back away and disperse. Her brief playful demeanor vanished, and her expression became solemn again. “Today has been a trying day for us all, and we’ve lost a few of our brothers and sisters to another ambush. We best keep our guard up from now on, as well as keep each other safe.

“I understand that U’Din’s return is a blessing amidst all the misfortune we’ve suffered the past week, but any form of celebration would have to wait; I need to have a word with my Second, as well as his allies in the Inquisition. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if everyone assisted our injured clansmen from the main camp in any way they can.”

The clan members voiced their assent, dispersing so that they could get to work. A couple of children snuck quick hugs from U’Din, while a few elders chanced a head rub before moving along. The Inquisitor fixed his hair and waved the kids goodbye, smiling when they reminded him to finish his story later.

“Story?” Mahanon asked out of nowhere, almost startling him. “What story?”

“Ah, I was telling them a story before, but then I had to cut it short because I had to leave for Ferelden.” U’Din responded, eyes briefly shifting towards Ellana who was still favoring her arm. The blond frowned in concern as he spoke to her, “Ellana, is your arm—“

The First didn’t let him finish. She just walked away, using her staff as a walking stick. She was about to pass by the Keeper when the old woman spoke to her.

“Ellana, thank you and your brother for bringing U’Din back. I know it must have been difficult to travel all the way to Skyhold by yourselves.”

She paused before nodding, “It was nothing, Keeper. I only did what you asked.”

“Still, you did good work.” The Keeper acknowledged. “Now, while I speak with U’Din and his allies, could you and your brother help the clan settle in? I’d like you to prepare _that_ for U’Din, as well. It should be close during this time of the year.”

Something akin to understanding flashed in the First’s eyes, and her gaze briefly shifted towards U’Din before going back to the Keeper. She pursed her lips and exhaled—a nod the only indication that she had heard her Keeper’s command.

“Well,” Mahanon began lamely, scratching the back of his head. He forced a smile in U’Din’s direction and gave a little wave. “I guess I’ll see you later, vhenan.”

He left before U’Din could contradict him, and the hunter ran to catch up with his sister. He walked silently beside her for a few moments, eyeing the arm that their Keeper had paralyzed.

“You didn’t need to snub him, you know. He’s only worried about you. And you know perfectly well that none of this is his fault.” He berated lightly. When the mage didn’t speak, he sighed. “But, well, I guess that’s not something you want to hear right now, huh?”

“What was your first clue? Dumbass.” Ellana muttered darkly.

Mahanon rolled his eyes and ignored the insult. “And you wonder why the guys are terrified of you. Anyway, how’s your arm? Is it still numb?”

“Not as much,” Ellana replied, lifting the arm and attempting to move a few fingers. She sighed when only two fingers were able to move. “The Keeper didn’t seem to put much power into the shock, but it still caught me off guard. Maybe that’s why it’s taking me a while to get over it.”

“Well, the Keeper wouldn’t use a spell that would hurt you _that_ much, of course.” Mahanon said as a matter-of-factly, but seemed to doubt his own words. He turned to his sister with a troubled expression on his face. “Still, I didn’t expect her to cast a spell on you _at all_. It just seems so unlike her.”

Ellana stopped walking and looked over her shoulder. The Keeper led U’Din and the others to the biggest tent in the camp, and the First kept her eyes trained on the old woman until she vanished inside. She looked down at her arm and moved the joint around her elbow, sighing when she started to feel it move.

“Yeah,” She acknowledged after a moment of silence, scowling. “Very unlike her.”

 

* * *

 

“I apologize for the cramped space,” Deshanna began as she sat down in the center of the tent. “But this is the biggest tent we have set up at the moment, unfortunately. You’ll have to squeeze together a bit.”

“We should be the ones apologizing for imposing, Keeper Lavellan.” Cassandra said diplomatically, setting down her shield and sword before sitting down on the floor. The others followed suit, forming a half-circle around the Keeper. “And this is perfectly adequate. We do not need much space to talk, after all.”

“Says you,” Muttered a strangely irritable Sera.

The Seeker looked at her and frowned. “Something wrong, Sera?”

She looked around warily. It seemed like she _did_ have something on her mind, but whether she was willing to share it was a different story. The blond archer just shook her head and just placed her bow in her lap, tapping at the wood impatiently. “Nothing. Just... whatever.”

“Are you sure? If you—“

“Let’s just get on with it, yeah? You, Keeper Whatever, talk at us. Or something.”

“Very well. Let’s continue from where we left off, then.” Deshanna acquiesced, sending the archer a brief glance. She turned to U’Din and said, “Now, I believe you were wondering why I hadn’t sent you news of the attacks. Well, to put it simply, the attacks only started a few days ago. And back then, we thought the first two attacks were a simple raid and an attempt at revenge, respectively. It was only when the third attack happened that I realized that this may be more than just an act of pillaging.”

“Attacking three times is already unusual behavior for bandits,” Solas retorted, holding his chin in thought. “And even if they _do_ plan to attack more than once, they usually take time to regroup and lick their wounds. Several attacks in quick succession, though? That seems too organized for bandits.”

“You forgot to mention that they didn’t even do any _stealing_.” Sera added. “If I wanted to steal from a bunch of elfy elves, I’d cause a distraction, like, I dunno, make a few things go boom or throw in a few jars of bees. It’s much easier to loot without any people around to stop you, and there’s too many people to kill, so why bother? So stealing? Not on their to-do list.”

“And they’re well-armed,” Cassandra looked up, recalling taking out a few bandits that were lying in wait around the camp. “ _Too_ well-armed, if you ask me.”

“Four camps. One south. Two northwest. The last, it’s the Keeper’s. Take her out, then the rest. Do it now, and _fast_.” Cole muttered dazedly, earning shocked looks from everyone, including the Keeper’s.

“ _How_ —?”

“He’s... special. Don’t mind him.” Cassandra turned to give the spirit a small glare, but Cole wasn’t paying attention to her.

Deshanna composed herself quickly after that, looking considering instead of shocked. She cleared her throat and nodded, “Very well. But yes, what you’ve all said are things that I’ve observed, which is why I believe now that someone wants to eliminate us.”

U’Din’s head shot up, and he spoke for the first time since sitting down, “ _What_? Who would want to do that? What do they have against the clan?”

The Keeper sighed and shook her head. “That I do not know, da’len. We keep mostly to ourselves, after all. We make sure not to trespass in immediate shem territory, and our actual contact with shem traders is infrequent. I cannot fathom why anyone would want to attack our clan, let alone have us eliminated.”

“Could it be my fault?” He asked, frowning at the floor. “Could it be because I am the Inquisitor?”

The old woman considered him. “That is certainly possible. I’m sure you have acquired many enemies since becoming Inquisitor. The attacks on the clan _could_ have been done by one of them.”

“Perhaps revealing his clan name had been a tactical mistake,” Cassandra said, looking regretful. Then her eyes sparked with anger. “Though that leaves us with the Venatori being the likely culprit behind these attacks. Or, at least, indirectly through allies who have quietly sided with them. They will _pay_.”

U’Din let out a deep, shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair—his eyes narrowed in anguish and regret. “Then it _is_ my fault. I’m the one who caused this. I’m... _I’m_ responsible for—“

“Inquisitor, don’t even _start_ ,” Cassandra interjected harshly, pointing a finger at him. He looked away, causing her ire to rise. “Nothing—absolutely _nothing_ about this is your fault. How could you have known? The attacks only started recently, so you couldn’t have possibly been informed in time. You should stop blaming yourself for this.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to be informed if I hadn’t left and become Inquisitor,” U’Din responded petulantly, not looking at any of his companions.

“If I _may_ , Inquisitor,” Solas began carefully. U’Din could already imagine the older elf preparing to give him another one of his famous sermons, and the thought made him scowl at the ground. “But your being Inquisitor has saved _countless_ lives already. Do you remember the civilians in the Hinterlands? The templars you helped save at Therinfal? Not to mention many others who were indirectly saved _because_ of you and the cause that you lead! Does that still mean nothing to you? Did our little _talk_ not accomplish anything?”

“I know, I know,  but I can’t help but feel like complete shit because people _died_ , Solas! They died—were _killed_ , and it was most likely because I’m _me_! And for all my being Inquisitor, I could do nothing to stop it! Did you expect me to be heartless and, and—and just _accept_ that?”

“I said no such thing about being heartless. You have _all_ the reason to mourn for the loss of your clansmen,” Solas retorted, calm as ever, but his eyes told a different story. “But this self-blaming—this self-pity _has_ to stop. Your whining will _not_ bring the dead back, U’Din!”

“Self-pity— _I’m not whining_! I’m just—“

“Woefully lamenting the deaths of your clan members as if you have control over fate? Arrogantly assuming that your presence could have easily prevented this tragedy? For all you know, Inquisitor, if you had been here when this happened, _you_ could have been one of those who died!”

“Is that supposed to make me _feel_ better, Solas?! That I should feel happy that _they_ died in my stead? And what the fuck do you _mean_ by arrogant, how _dare_ you—“

“I say you are arrogant because you aim to save everyone but that is _impossible_ , Inquisitor! Even with your control over the Anchor in your ocarina, with your magic, with your tactics and know-how, there will _always_ be casualties. There will always be _deaths_. You may not like it, you may not _wish_ it, but that is the reality of war. And that is something that you have to accept.”

U’Din’s mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find the words to say. His fist shook, and for a moment a white blanket of light enveloped his hand. The Keeper narrowed her eyes, and the others stiffened and braced themselves as they expected the Inquisitor to lash out—

But his shaking stopped, and the light faded away. The rage in his eyes vanished, and his face showed that he had accepted defeat. He sighed deeply and slumped forward, using his hand to support his head.

“I know. I _know_. You’re right, I—I know it’s impossible. I know that there will always be deaths—soldiers and innocents alike. I know I can’t save _everyone_. But why... why couldn’t my clansmen be part of whom I _can_ save? Why did _they_ have to be the ones to forfeit their lives? Why did it have to be people I personally _knew_? One of them practically _raised_ me, for fuck’s sake!”

Cassandra’s eyes softened, and she put down the shield that she had instinctively held up when she sensed the Inquisitor’s flaring temper. “Inquisitor...”

“I get it. I really do. And I’m _sorry_ for sounding so pathetic but I’m just—“ He bowed his head, hiding his face from everyone. “I just feel like I should have gone home sooner. That way, I could have done _something_ instead of sitting on my ass all day!”

“But you _weren’t_ just sitting all day.” Cole tried to reason, ever the consoling and compassionate one. “You were going through a lot that time. Your clansmen stressed you out. And you and Solas were busy in the—“

“ _That_ being said,” Solas interrupted, ignoring the pointed look that Cassandra gave him (and Sera’s disgusted scowls). “Your pain is completely understandable, Inquisitor. And you have every right to feel mournful over the loss of your clansmen. But do not let this incident discourage you. You have achieved so much. Please remember that.”

“Your allies are right, da’len.” Everyone turned to look at the Keeper who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. “True, our brothers and sisters lost their lives during this unfortunate circumstance, but while it is possible that it was an indirect attack towards you, you should not be so hard on  yourself. The blame lies on your enemies the Venatori, not you. Remember that, as well as the lives of our fallen brethren, as you continue on the road ahead of you to defeat the monster that started this all.”

“Continue?” U’Din’s eyes could have fallen out of their sockets. “You mean—“

She smiled and nodded. “You will always be my Second, U’Din. Whether you’re here, helping out the clan, or out there, making the World a better, safer place.”

“But I thought,” He shared an incredulous look with Cassandra before gawking at the Keeper once more. “I thought you wanted me back. You sent Ellana and Mahanon to _get_ me, and they’re one of the more powerful members of our clan! And now you’re saying that security risk was for _nothing_?”

“I agree with the Inquisitor,” Cassandra added, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the old woman. “Not that I am ungrateful for this change of heart, Keeper Lavellan, but you made it clear a while ago that you expect him to stay. What changed your mind?”

“When I’ve become convinced that our clan has become a target.” Deshanna said a matter-of-factly, and she stared at U’Din; her eyes flashing briefly. “I will not risk his life by making him stay here when it is glaringly obvious that he’s safer with the Inquisition.”

“Pragmatic and sensible,” Solas quipped with a raised brow. “Admittedly the first instance of it I’ve witnessed from the Dalish.”

“Don’t get me wrong, friend, I _still_ intend to have him back once his job as Inquisitor is done.” She said diplomatically, but her gaze was steely as she met the hedge mage’s eyes. “But as much as I want my Second here where I can personally make sure he’s safe, I refuse to let sentimentality to win over sense. He’ll have more chances of survival with you. And that is what’s important.”

“Why do you always do that?” U’Din asked suddenly. He glared at the ground, clenching his fist. “Why do you protect me so much? I can take care of myself, Keeper. I’m not a child.”

“No, you are no child, U’Din. But you _are_ sick. And now, you apparently have only _one_ functioning arm left.” Deshanna sounded displeased as she glared at the useless appendage hanging on U’Din’s left side. “Tell me, how many puncture wounds do you have now? If I remember correctly, before you left, you only had four.”

“Err,” The Inquisitor suddenly felt self-conscious, and heat rose up in his cheeks. He ignored his allies’ curious stares as he scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to respond. “That’s, um...”

“ _Da’len_.” The Keeper’s tone made him flinch. “How many?”

U’Din’s eyes narrowed as he counted in his head. His right shoulder, his right hand, midriff, left arm, chest, leg, back and... _down there_. He gulped at the number and braced himself, closing one eye as he stared at the Keeper. “Eight...?”

Other than the Keeper’s grip on her staff tightening, she showed no other outward change in her expression or demeanor—and that had U’Din gawking in surprise. Why wasn’t she angry? She had exploded when she found out about the incident with Mahanon. So why such a blasé reaction?

Deshanna breathed in before speaking, “That is a lot, da’len. Your past wounds were incurred within the thirty years of your existence. But somehow you’ve managed to double the number in just _five months_. That is... very alarming. Now I wonder if you really _are_ safe with the Inquisition.”

“Keeper Lavellan, what _is_ the Inquisitor’s sickness?” Cassandra preempted U’Din before he could respond. “We’ve consulted with several experts on diseases and magical entropies, yet this is the first time there has been a sickness like the Inquisitor’s! Is it a curse—magic gone wrong? If you have any knowledge you can offer that can help us find a cure, we—“

“If the Inquisition’s resources cannot help determine his sickness, then I’m afraid that whatever I’ll tell you will be redundant.” She interjected, looking sorrowful. “U’Din’s body is somehow not able to heal normally like everyone else’s, whether from natural healing or from spells and medicine. And because of that, for every wound that he takes—anything that would break skin or draw blood—would decay. And the body can only take so much before it deteriorates.”

The color drained from the Seeker’s face, and she looked defeated to have her fears confirmed. “So it really is true. That means he—“

“If U’Din takes another wound, I am not sure if he’ll survive it. And even if he does, death will claim him much earlier than any of us would like.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Sera stood up; her bow flying out of her lap. She turned to U’Din with an expression of betrayal and hurt. “What does she mean, Droopy?! You’ll—You’ll _die_ soon?!”

U’Din turned away, unable to look at her with that expression on her face. “You heard her, Sera. With this condition, it’s already certain that I’ll die young—and that’s without the posing threat of Corypheus.”

“But I thought—I thought that salve thing kept your wounds from getting worse! What the frig is it _for_ , then?!”

“It slows down the decomposition process yes, but it’s not a cure. Unfortunately, there’s really no way to stop this. I’m going to die—probably in a few years, I think.” U’Din said, resigned. He looked up at a bug-eyed Sera and asked, “Why are you even asking? Didn’t... Didn’t you know already?”

“I knew you were sick but nobody said you were going to _die_ soon! I didn’t know about that at all! That’s friggin’ _news_ to me!”

“What do you mean? I thought—“ U’Din paused and turned to Cassandra and Solas. “You never told the others?”

Cassandra sighed and shook her head. “No. The nature of your condition is known by the inner circle and other high-ranking individuals in the Inquisition, but we’ve only kept the truth about your limited lifespan amongst ourselves. It would cause too much panic if it spreads—and it would be unnecessary since we do intend to find a cure no matter what anyone says.”

“Oh.” U’Din replied lamely. He turned back to Sera and looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Sera. I had no idea that you didn’t know. If I—“

“That’s all you can say after not telling me that you’re going to _die_ soon? You’re _sorry_?!” Sera seethed, gesticulating wildly. “That’s just so—I’m all— _you_ —YOU’RE A FRIGGIN’ ARSE!” She growled and picked up her bow and quiver, and after one last glare at U’Din, she left the tent while swearing up a storm.

“Sera, wait!”

“Da’len, let her go. She’s learned that a good friend of hers is dying. You chasing after her isn’t what she needs right now.” The Keeper interjected, stopping U’Din in his tracks.

He bit his lip and stared after the archer. “But—“

“In fact, I’d like to have a word with you. _Privately_.” She said, shifting her gaze to look at Solas and Cassandra. “I have a few private things to discuss with my Second. I would appreciate it if you would indulge me on this.”

“What do you intend to tell him that we cannot hear as well?” Cassandra asked, narrowing her eyes. “We are his closest allies, and he is our Inquisitor. Anything that concerns him concerns us as well.”

Deshanna smiled, unaffected by the Seeker’s suspicion. “I’m just an old woman who wants to have a private chat with the man she raised since his parents’ passing. Is that so hard to believe?”

U’Din had looked at his Keeper strangely, wondering what she was on about, but then his face lit up when he realized his chance. _Opportunity_. He could get some answers!

Cassandra didn’t seem convinced. “Still, we—“

“Lady Cassandra, Solas,” U’Din interrupted, turning to his companions with a pleading look on his face. “Could you...?”

Cassandra wanted to argue, she really did, but the look on the Inquisitor’s face shook her resolve. Moments of staring passed, and she relented and let out a disgruntled noise. She pointedly ignored his relieved and thankful expression as she stood up.

“If the Inquisitor wishes privacy, then who am I to deny him of it?” She turned to Solas, and he too had stood up. Cassandra leveled U’Din a hard glare as he stood up to escort them out. “If she forces you to stay, Inquisitor, we—“

“Yes, yes,” He practically shooed them out, sounding too enthusiastic to have a private word with the Keeper. He closed the flaps behind his allies and practically ran back.

But once he was seated in front of the Keeper, bearing the weight of her stare by himself, he suddenly felt very small. It was like he was fifteen again. He swallowed and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, Keeper?”

She looked amused as she regarded him. “Yes, da’len?”

“I...” He trailed off, not knowing where to begin. He sighed and bowed his head, offering meekly, “First of all, I truly am sorry for failing to keep everyone safe, Keeper. I—If I had known—“

“Da’len, you are still too hard on yourself. Even after all this time.” She sounded both fond and displeased when she said that. “I would have thought that spending time as Inquisitor would give you more confidence. Still have a long way to go, I see.”

The blond elf blushed and glared at his feet. “It’s not like I haven’t learned anything, Keeper. I made a lot of acquaintances and friends. I’d gained experience making big decisions and leading people for a noble cause. And I also... helped a lot of people that aren’t my clansmen. Though I know there’s still room for improvement, I’ve learned a lot of things, Keeper.”

“And those are probably the best things that one can ever obtain in this World: knowledge, wisdom, _experience_. Even though I said that you’ve got a long way to go, I can tell that you’ve grown in the months that I haven’t seen you. And as your Keeper, I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

The flush on his face deepened, and he played with the string holding his ocarina. “W-Well, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it or anything—“

“Give yourself more credit, da’len. Mythal knows you’ve earned it.” She said, giving him a strangely large smile. Then it vanished as she turned to his left side. “And before we talk, I’d like to reiterate that I want to speak with you _alone_. So come on out and kindly leave the tent.”

“Oh,” Came a soft voice from beside U’Din. The blond almost jumped when he saw Cole sitting next to him. “Sorry. I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“I—“ U’Din blinked as he watched Cole leave the tent quite casually, as if the Keeper sensing him had been an expected occurrence. He turned to her and asked, “Wait, how did you know that he was there? I don’t even know half the time!”

She chuckled throatily, amused by U’Din’s incredulity. “You don’t get to my age without learning a thing or two, da’len. And I’m almost twice as old as you are. Which reminds me,”

She stood up and pulled out a strange box hidden behind rolled-up tapestries and sacks. U’Din watched curiously as she sat back down in front of him and opened it, revealing a few unfamiliar items. The Keeper pulled out a few books that looked similar to his journals back at Skyhold, except they seemed torn and dirtied.

When she placed the books on his lap, he looked at them and at her in confusion. “What’s this, Keeper?”

“Those are the rest of your father’s journals.” She replied softly, turning back to the box to take out the rest of the items. There were more similar books, as well as a silver sword hilt adorned with several small jewels. The last object she took out was a silver pendant attached to a thin chain. “The first set I gave you before were incomplete journals that had useful information that you yourself added to as my Second. Those, on the other hand, well. They’re rather... _interesting_. You should read them in your spare time.”

U’Din raised a brow at the vague response. After she handed him the rest of the books, he opened the first one in the pile and began to skim the pages. His frown deepened as he turned each page, and by the middle he stopped and closed the book. He repeated the process with the other books, and by the fourth book he gave up and stared at the Keeper.

“Keeper, I don’t understand. What do you mean _read_?” He raised one of the journals in the air and showed her an open page—a _blank_ open page. “There’s nothing in here to do any of that. Did you mean I should write something for me to read?”

“I meant what I said, child,” Came another vague reply. Before U’Din could voice out his frustration, she handed him the sword hilt next. “Here. I think you’ll find this the most useful out of the things I’ll be giving you today.”

He held the hilt gingerly so he could inspect every inch of it. It was a very beautiful hilt, though the design of it seemed strange. He tested the weight, and it seemed lighter than he expected, though that could be because it lacked a blade. He gave it a test swing, and he was surprised with how fluid it felt in his grasp. How odd. “This looks well-made. Where’d it come from, Keeper?”

“It’s an old relic from our past, da’len. We found it recently as we traveled to set up a new camp, but it was old and worn. Alayna had done her very best to restore it.”

The reminder of his late master had soured his mood completely, and he sighed sadly. He looked at his Keeper with glassy eyes. “What happened? How did she...?”

“Fighting.” Was the brief answer. She averted her eyes from him. “She helped defend the clan during the first attack, but she sustained an injury that didn’t heal in time for the second. She lasted ten minutes. Took a sword for one of the children.”

Despite his grief, U’Din was able to force a smile on his face. “She _would_ die saving someone’s life. That is so like her.”

“Indeed,” The Keeper agreed, nodding solemnly. “She was a good woman till the end. Her journey to the Beyond will be a peaceful one, I bet.”

“Did she,” He swallowed, “Did she say anything? Before she died?”

“...She said that you should have that hilt. That you would know what to do with it.” The Keeper answered after a moment’s silence. “And she told me, with her last breath, to tell you that it’s not your fault. That you made her proud, and that her only regret was not seeing you before she passed.”

That did it. Whatever had kept U’Din from mourning for the loss of his master had crumbled, allowing the tears to freely roll down his face. His breath kept getting caught in his throat as he sobbed and pressed the hilt close to his chest. He was so lost in his anguish that he didn’t notice the Keeper kneeling beside him, drawing him close to her chest.

“Oh, da’len,” She whispered to his hair as he rubbed his head. “ _Atisha_. She wouldn’t want to see you this way because of her.”

“I never got to say goodbye!” He cried into her chest. “She was like a mother to me, Keeper. She taught me _everything_ about crafting, and those skills helped me in the Inquisition before... _before_ —“ He cut himself off and instead cried his soul out, for no words could articulate just how much he mourned for his master. The Keeper started rocking him like she would a babe, and he clung to her desperately.

When his cries had ceased and his breathing had evened out, the Keeper pulled away from him briefly. He made a sound of confusion, then one of surprise when she presented him the locket next. Sniffling, cupped his hand to catch it in his palm. “What’s _this_ one?”

“A locket that I found in Alayna’s possessions a few days ago. She had always wanted to make something different from bows and swords, which is probably why she made this.” The Keeper explained, tapping on the pink-violet stone in the center. “I thought it would be wasteful to just sell it, so I decided that you should have it. She would have wanted that as well.”

U’Din made a small noise of acknowledgment, which he immediately regretted since his throat felt raw from crying so much. He inspected the locket and admired the intricate designs on the surface. On the back there were embellishments of entwined tree branches, and sculpted on the front was the face of an owl. He narrowed his eyes, finding that feature odd.

“Hahren Alayna made this?” The blond asked, holding the locket up in the air. “I didn’t know she liked owls. Or is that a tribute to Falon’Din?”

“I am unsure, da’len.” The Keeper said, sounding strangely dismissive. Before U’Din could ask, she added, “I placed protective spells over the stone for you, da’len. It will keep you safe for as long as you keep it on your person, and with so many enemies, you’ll very much find it very useful.”

U’Din blinked. “You put protective spells, Keeper? I didn’t know you could enchant without runes.”

“But it _is_ a rune, da’len. It’s the stone.” She pointed at the stone, and true enough, it _did_ have a symbol on it. “I suggest that you take care of it. If the stone breaks, the spell would, too.”

He nodded and put the locket over his chest, adjusting it next to his ocarina. The Keeper looked at the instrument on his chest with interest, and she waited a few moments before holding out her hand.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, da’len,” She began, drawing his attention. “But I wonder about your ocarina. Why is it glowing?”

“Oh, yeah,” He fumbled as he carefully took off the necklace attached to his ocarina. Placing it in her palm, he said, “The magic that helped me close the Breach and the small rifts scattered around Thedas had transferred to this ocarina when my left arm was destroyed. I’m not exactly sure why, though. All I know is that I have to play it if I want to close any rifts.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, watching the eerie glow of the ocarina with a disturbingly focused gaze. She hovered her other hand over the ocarina, and it let out a spark of green and white magic. Her eyes had gone wide for a brief moment before narrowing; her mouth curled.

“Interesting,” She mumbled, her eyes taking on a strange gleam. “ _Very_ interesting.”

“Keeper?” U’Din prompted, unsure of what to make of what he just witnessed.

She shook her head and handed back the ocarina to him. In response to his questioning gaze, she said, “That ocarina should be guarded fiercely, da’len. Now that the magic to close the rifts is in a vessel, _anyone_ can use it. Make sure to keep it close always.”

“Yes, Keeper.” He nodded, putting it back over his head. After it settled comfortably on his chest, he frowned at her. “Wait, why aren’t you telling me to give it to someone else?”

She blinked at him. “Why would I do that, da’len?”

“I mean, now that you know that I’m not the only one who can use the Anchor anymore, you can order me to stay. After all, isn’t that why you sent Mahanon and Ellana to get me in the first place? Why _do_ you want me back so desperately, anyway?”

“Now that I’ve seen the magic for my own eyes, I’d rather it be in your hands than in anyone else’s.” The Keeper replied. Then, strangely enough, she seemed to pout. “And why wouldn’t I want you back, da’len? I’m just a concerned old woman who doesn’t want her Second to meet a tragic fate, and you had suffered so many injuries already. I just wanted you back to keep you safe.”

“Well, I’ve never used my magic to fight so much before joining the Inquisition, and some of my enemies had been demons and dragons and—wait,” He stared at his Keeper in alarm. Then in suspicion. “I _had_ suffered many injuries? So you already knew? Was that why you didn’t get angry earlier?”

She sighed and shook her head, as if talking to a repetitive child. “Da’len, after all that has happened today, why would I be angry with you? Do you think so little of me?”

“W-Well, _no_ , but. When Mahanon had accidentally wounded me after _that_ , you...” He trailed off and flushed at the memory, shaking his head. “I expected _some_ anger, though. You only looked annoyed earlier. What gives?”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your allies. Did you want a sermon right then and there?”

“Of course not, but it wouldn’t have mattered to you! _You_ captured the Inquisition scouts the first time we tried to contact you!”

“What are you trying to say, dear boy?”

“You’re hiding something from me, Keeper. And I think you’ve been doing that for a long time,” U’Din looked down at his lap and gripped the fabric of his pants. “You kept me hidden from the clan when I was a child, only letting me out when you deemed me “old enough.” You never let me go with the others when we trade with shems. You never let me venture away _without_ you or someone else with me. _Then_ you stopped bringing me to Arlathvhen! And now this sudden change of heart about me being Inquisitor!”

“Da’len, _please_. Your point?”

“My point is: I _know_ you’re keeping secrets. I’ve always known. But now I’m tired of having to fumble my way in the dark when you can shed some light on my life! Starting with Ellana!”

“Ellana?” The Keeper actually looked confused. “What about her?”

“She _hates_ me, Keeper! Or have you forgotten the scene she caused earlier? If you’ve forgotten the last fifteen years of my life, you certainly couldn’t have missed _that_. And she had only started hating me when she became the First! So that means whatever secret you’re keeping, she knows it and _that’s_ why she hates me.”

Deshanna let out a sigh of frustration. “Da’len, don’t let her get to you. I know you were best friends, but—“

“Just _tell_ me, Keeper! No more beating around the bush, _please_.” He begged, getting on his knees and crawling to her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to know why you keep me away from everyone, Keeper! Why you intend to protect me so much! Why you would send the First _and_ the best hunter of the clan to get back your measly Second who’s in another _continent_! Am I worth putting the clan at risk? Am I worth the past _three_ attacks on the clan? Am I worth the deaths of our clansmen—the death of hahren Alayna?!

“You obviously have a reason, and I only want to know what it is! Or why I _can’t_ know! Just—anything! Tell me the purpose of this charade, Keeper! I can’t—I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Purpose,” She repeated, eyes going distant. Her eyes refocused when they landed on U’Din, and she looked blankly at the blond’s pleading face. Seconds that felt like hours passed before she stood up, motioning for the blond to do the same.

“Keeper—“

“Listen to me, dear boy,” Deshanna began, placing a hand on U’Din’s shoulder. She leveled him a look of severity and seriousness. “The answers that you seek require a precondition, and that precondition requires a sacrifice—a sacrifice that you _cannot_ make yet. Not now. Because you are not yet _ready_ , and the World is not yet ready for _you_.”

“What are you talking about?” He whispered, meeting her severe gaze with a befuddled one. “What precondition? What sacrifice? And for what am I and the World not ready?”

“The answers to that are not yours to have yet, unfortunately. We cannot let convenience tempt us into making rash decisions, after all.” She responded cryptically. Before he could complain, she added, “But as much as I hate to admit it, your days in this body are numbered. A small _nudge_ in the right direction might be necessary.”

“Keeper, stop speaking in riddles! What is it?” U’Din growled out impatiently, eyes flashing a vivid color.

Instead of showing fear, she just smiled at him fondly, making the light in his eyes dim a fraction. She patted his cheek a few times and chuckled, “I’ve always liked that spark that you hide, da’len. You should show it more often.”

The Keeper looked down at the pile of books on the floor and picked one up. She flipped a few pages, and her eyes flashed briefly—though this time U’Din was able to see a glimpse of yellow. She handed him the book before he could even open his mouth and comment on it. “There. Hopefully that will satisfy you for the time being. If you want more, you’ll have to find more yourself.”

“Huh?” He looked at her incredulously, then at the book. He gaped in horror as she walked past him, heading for the exit. “Keeper, this isn’t fair! You said you’d—“

“Why don’t you open the book and see what I mean? You’ll understand then.” Deshanna responded, giving him a smirk that seemed out of place on her face. She pushed through the flaps and left U’Din gawking at where she once stood.

He huffed in frustration and opened the book, “I don’t _believe_ this. What is the Keeper trying to pull? This stupid book has absolutely nothing on—“ He cut himself off and stared wide-eyed at the pages.

_Words._

 

* * *

 

“I do not like this. What are they talking about?” Cassandra paced a few feet away from the tent, not taking her eyes off of it. She tried standing nearer to see if she could eavesdrop, but Cole had suddenly walked out and surprised her. He said that the Keeper sensed his presence and told him to get out, and that made the Seeker have second thoughts. “What could she _possibly_ need to tell him that we cannot hear as well? This is suspicious!”

Solas said nothing in response, though he too felt the same impatience that Cassandra was visibly showing. Whatever was going on inside that tent could provide a crucial clue to the mystery that was U’Din. He briefly considered using his cloaking abilities to eavesdrop, but one look at Cole dissuaded him. It was normal for some people to have the experience necessary to detect concealed individuals, but...

Cole was a spirit. Therefore, his cloaking abilities were linked directly to the Fade—in other words, a form of magic. For the Keeper to be able to sense it spoke greatly of her skill. Could it simply be experience? Long years of research and practice? Certainly plausible. And yet—

Time seemed to pass by quickly, because one moment Solas was stewing over his thoughts (completely ignoring a still-pacing Seeker), then the next, the flaps of the tent opened to reveal the Keeper. He straightened, and Cassandra immediately confronted her.

“Keeper Lavellan, with all due respect—“

“Ah, Cassandra Pentaghast. Thank you for waiting patiently. I’ve just finished speaking with my Second.” Deshanna interjected smoothly. “I’ve just told him that he is to continue being Inquisitor. There’s really no other choice, seeing as he’s already known throughout Thedas, and a replacement would just be troublesome.”

Cassandra blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then she cleared her throat and nodded in agreement. “Well, _yes_. Exactly! Lord U’Din _must_ continue to be Inquisitor. There can be no one else.”

“I shall entrust my Second to you and the Inquisition, then. Make sure he doesn’t belittle himself too much.” She reached her hand out towards the Seeker, and Cassandra shook it in solidarity. The Keeper turned to Solas and smiled, “And as for you, friend, I shall entrust him to you, as well. Though, admittedly, for a different reason. Try not to be so hard on him, however. A little nudge is good, but too much and he’ll just go off-course completely.”

“I’m sorry?” Solas inquired, confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “There’s no need to be coy, my friend. I could sense my Second’s feelings for you the moment you started arguing. I hadn’t seen him so passionate for a _long_ time.”

Cassandra gasped, turning to glare at Solas. “So you and the Inquisitor _do_ have something going on!”

Solas, for the first time in a long while, was left speechless. “I—“

“ _Keeper_!” Fortunately for Solas, U’Din chose that exact moment to come rushing out of the tent. A small chest was hoisted up on his right side, though everyone paid more attention to the bug-eyed look on his face. “Keeper, how did you do that? Are there hidden words in all of the books? Could you teach me? What did—“

“Oh, da’len, I just noticed how disheveled you look. And all that _blood_ ,” She clucked her tongue as she looked him over, making U’Din feel like a child again. “You should wash by the river nearby before it gets too dark. We’ll start the burning ceremony once you’ve finished.”

“Burning ceremony?” Cassandra asked. “You burn your dead?”

“As a matter of fact, we do. Surprised?”

“Well, I thought... Don’t the Dalish have Death Rites? I had always assumed that you bury your dead.”

“We _used_ to. But now we burn our dead. Of course, we keep that information to ourselves. It would cause quite a stir if other clans find out about it, as you can imagine.”

“Why would you do that? I thought the Dalish wish to _preserve_ tradition, not throw it away.”

“Undead.” Deshanna and U’Din answered in unison, one sounding more vehement than the other.

“Ah,” Cassandra scrunched up her nose and nodded in understanding, while Solas furrowed his brows in deep thought. “I see.”

“We will need to prepare for this ceremony now if we are to have it by tonight. I shall go and begin the preparations.” The Keeper turned to U’Din and raised a brow at him, “ _You_ , however, need to get cleaned. Your bandages will need replacing as well.”

“ _Keeper_ ,” The blond grimaced, face flushing in embarrassment.

“I have some salve in the tent. Go take a small pot and bring it with you. And I do mean _now_ , da’len.” She stressed, and gave U’Din a look that forced him to mutter his affirmation. Satisfied, she inclined her head at the others and promptly left.

The blond shook his head and scowled. “She still treats me like a child. Figures.”

“Are you all right, Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked in concern. “I feared that she wanted to try to convince you to stay, but apparently she already allowed you to remain Inquisitor. Not that it would make a difference, of course. With or without her consent, you _will_ need to return for the ball at the Winter Palace— _where are you going_?”

“Apparently,” U’Din walked back to the tent and shot her a look over his shoulder, “I’m going to take a bath.”

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra called out, scowling when he ignored her and went inside the tent. “He probably didn’t even listen to me. He _rarely_ listens to me. Solas, what do you—“

Cassandra cut herself off when she turned and found no one around her. After looking around for a bald elf, she realized that she was by her lonesome. The Seeker pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a disgruntled noise. “ _Ugh_ , I’m surrounded by hard-headed idiots.”

A gust of wind. “Am _I_ a hard-headed idiot, Cassandra?”

“Cole, _stop_ it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, that was a lot of dialogue. Ugh, sorry if that bothers you, but this really was planned to be a talkative chapter. And well, I revealed quite a bit in this chapter, albeit in the form of sneaky hints, so I hope that satisfies you for now XD The chapter title applies to both U'Din and you guys apparently HAHAHAHA /gets shot/ Anyways, please do tell me what you think! :) It'll help motivate me to get the next chapter out sooner lol. But whatever you're willing to give, whether it be your comments, kudos, or just your time spent reading this, I'll always appreciate it. :) Thanks so much for sticking around, and I'll see you guys next update! :D
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Elvhish:  
>  _Atisha_ : Peace. In this context, it could mean "calm down" or "easy there." Depends. :))
> 
> Info:  
> 1\. Throughout playing the Dragon Age games, I had always wondered why there were so few Dalish elves in the camps. I mean, I understood that it might be due to animation constraints, but really, one Dalish clan had only a few members? And just _one_ camp? I didn't think that was realistic. Then I came across [_this_](http://holyshitdragonage.tumblr.com/post/132017210946/do-dalish-elves-live-in-aravels-or-do-they-live) beautiful post and boom, I became more convinced that this is true because a lot of people thought the same. Lol.


	34. Communication is Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I'VE BEEN AWAY FOR SUCH A LONG TIME. UGH. SORRY ABOUT THAT. REAL LIFE + A CYST GOT ME GOOD.
> 
> Not beta'd because Rikka is busy with life, too. Huhu, so alone ; u ; I'll correct any mistakes later on if I made any!
> 
> WARNING: References to **painful sex** in the chapter. It's not too graphic, but it might be **dub-cony** depending on your interpretation of it. If that stuff makes you uncomfortable, brace yourself! Also, brief thoughts of **suicide**.

U’Din grumbled as he washed the sweat, grime and blood off his skin, watching in disgust as the tainted water flowed down the river. Part of him had always felt bad about bathing where animals get their water—where they get _their_ water, and he felt like a total asshole for doing so. Alas, he was in no mood to care about who might drink from the water he’s currently contaminating.

 _‘Treating me like a child,’_ He thought angrily to himself as he scrubbed a particularly grimy spot on his thigh. How’d that get there, anyway? _‘Telling me to take a bath in front of my allies like that. I’m turning thirty-one, dammit! I don’t need to be told what to do.’_

And yet here said thirty-one-year-old was: sitting on a rock while using a smaller, smoother one to scrub himself down. Just like he was told. It was like he never grew up and left the clan, to be honest.

 _To be fair,_ a voice echoed in his head, _the Keeper can talk anyone into doing anything. Maybe even Corypheus._

U’Din snorted at the thought. He had years of upbringing under the Keeper’s watchful eye and firm hand to attest to that.

Once he was done getting rid of the blood and dirt, he stood up and exhaled. He looked down at his reflection on the water and frowned at the dark patches on his skin that marked where he was decaying. He sat back down on the rock and hunched in on himself.

U’Din could wash away the blood, the sweat and the dirt all he wants, but no amount of scrubbing or cleaning would be able to get rid of the tell-tale marks of his destiny: death. It was a reality that he’d come to accept already, so he wasn’t sure exactly _why_ it bothered him now. He scowled and made circles in the water with his foot, unwilling to see his ugliness any longer.

Seeing his body’s ugly and marred reflection reminded him why he preferred bathing at night. Stupid Keeper. Stupid sickness. Stupid self for being so sick and ugly and not being able to do anything about it. _Stupid_.

 _“This self-pity_ has _to stop. Your whining will not bring the dead back, U’Din!”_

 _‘Stupid Solas.’_ He closed his eyes and sighed. Standing up, the Inquisitor sent one last scowl at his reflection before turning back to the bank—

Only to see Sera standing a few feet away. _Watching_. He screamed and submerged his lower half under the water, face flushed red from embarrassment and indignation.

“Damn it, Sera! What are you doing?!” He nearly screeched, because U’Din was not the type to screech, no matter how embarrassed he was. Maybe. “Have you been standing there watching me this whole time?! I can’t believe you!”

“Oh, _please_ , who do you think I am? _Solas_?” The archer mocked, placing a hand on her hip. She ignored his sputtering and knelt on the edge of the bank to his level. “And what if I was? Not like you have anything I’m interested in, Droopy. Even if you _do_ look like a chit.”

“Hah, hah, _hah_.” He glared. He stood up and waddled awkwardly towards the bank, then stared at the dark blanket Sera handed over to him. Huh, he didn’t recall bringing that with him.

“Thanks.” U’Din grabbed it and quickly wrapped his body with it as fast as he could. This caused him to slip, and he closed his eyes as he prepared for the impact—

“ _Geez_ , Droopy!” Sera’s voice was loud and shrill as she pulled him towards her using the fabric, allowing him to regain his balance. She glared at him and added, “Be careful, you stupid tit! What if you fall and hurt your back, huh?! Or graze  your arm? It’s like you _want_ to die!”

“Sera?” U’Din blinked, wondering what had gotten into her.

Sera seemed to have noticed her own uncharacteristic behavior because she staggered back and let him go. Shaking her head, she waved a hand in dismissal. “Never mind. Just—Just put on some clothes, yeah? You might get sick— _more_ sick. Can’t have that, can we?”

“Okay?” U’Din blinked again, unsure of how to respond. He finally got out of the water and walked towards the spot under a tree where he placed his clothes, bandages and salve. Sera followed him silently, watching as he quickly put on some trousers and sat on a raised root to prepare the salve.

When he opened the lid, the strong smell of freshly-made salve made her eyes water, and she pinched her nose and backed away. “ _Eugh_ , that looks a _lot_ worse than I remember! What _is_ that thing, anyway?”

“I dunno,” U’Din replied, taking a dollop of black paste and rubbing it between his fingertips. “The Keeper never taught me how to make it, so I have no idea what the ingredients are. All I know is that it’s the only salve that can relieve my wounds, albeit temporarily.”

“You mean those black patches on your skin.” Sera said, inching just a tiny bit closer and staring at the exposed, decayed skin. She eyed the three claw marks on his chest, and her face fell after remembering what had caused them.

He hummed and started applying on his bruised leg. Immediate relief washed over him, and he couldn’t help but sigh as he rubbed. Even though it was too much of a pain to do, rubbing salve over his wounds _did_ feel good. It was probably the closest thing to healing he could get, and from what he’d heard, healing was euphoric, whether done by magic or potion.

Despite his relief, he couldn’t help but be bothered. Sera had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time he applied his salve, and he normally took his time in doing so. He had expected her to complain at one point, but she just sat a few feet away, watching him. She even offered to help apply the salve to those hard to reach places, causing him to blink at her incredulously.

“I’m sorry? You want to what?” He asked as his neck craned to follow Sera jumping on the root behind him.

“Help. _Duh_.” She replied, sounding as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She sat her bum on the root and rubbed her hands together. “Right, now hand me that piece of cloth over there.”

U’Din’s eyes followed her pointer finger and landed on the folded cloths he randomly brought with him. He stretched his arm out to grab it, and he handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She unfurled and shook the tiny piece of cloth to get rid of any dirt. Reaching over U’Din’s shoulder, she grabbed the salve and eyed the ominous-looking paste warily. “So I just scoop some and rub it all over your back?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if you really need the cloth, though. I can use it just fine without one, though now that I think about it, the Keeper _did_ use one whenever—“

“No way I’m touching this thing with my fingers! It’s practically _screaming_ at me not to. Dunno how you can even stand to have this scrubbed all over you.” She scooped a bit of paste using the cloth and dabbed some of it on the decaying skin on U’Din’s back. “All right?”

“Yes, thank you.” U’Din felt instant relief when the salve made contact on his back. Boy, that felt _really good_. “Although you really don’t have to, you know. I’ve managed just fine by myself; it just takes longer since I lack an appendage.”

“I know,” Was her simple reply, and she got to work pretty quickly. The efficiency and precision of her movements threw U’Din off, and he wondered if this was the side of Sera that dealt with making toxins and explosives. Work like that _should_ require a bit of patience and skill, did it not?

But still, this was Sera, the girl who hated all things “elfy” and freaked out when someone so much as yelled, “magic,” let alone practiced the craft in front of her. She also walked out on him earlier after finding out about U’Din’s limited lifespan, right after freaking out.

Something _must_ be going on with her. U’Din just had no idea what.

She finished rubbing salve on the wounds on his back, and she asked him if there were any other places that needed some salve. He thought about it and flushed, realizing that, no matter how friendly he was with Sera, he was _not_ willing to let her rub salve _there_. When he said that all wounds were covered, she surprised him again by offering to wrap his wounds in bandages.

“Sera,” He began unsurely, eyes shifting to the side.

“Droopy,” She threw back, strangely concentrated on her task. Okay, this was getting really weird.

“About earlier. In the tent. When you found out the truth about my sickness,” He paused, looking down at the ground. His toes curled and dug up a bit of dirt. Well, so much for getting clean. “I just want to apologize. It never occurred to me that you didn’t know, and I never bothered to tell you myself since I thought everyone in the inner circle knew. It’s not much of an excuse but—“

“Droopy, shut it.” Sera interjected, pausing her movements. She tied the last knot on his back and inched away, inspecting her work. “I don’t really want to talk about that shite. I’m just here to help you out, yeah? Because that’s what friends do for friends. Help them. And shite.”

“Are you sure?” U’Din pressed, brows furrowing as he bent down to grab his shirt. He threw it over his head and put it on, grunting when it got stuck somewhere. “Uh—“

“ _Really_ ,” Sera huffed, helping him with his shirt. U’Din didn’t know whether she was responding to his question or reacting to the pathetic display he was most likely putting on. “We have nothing to talk about. Talking doesn’t change things. I’ll just end up getting pissed at you again, and I swear, I’ll shoot _arrows_ at you this time.”

“Thanks.” U’Din said gratefully after finally managing to put on his shirt. Then he sent the girl a reproachful look. “But Sera, you can’t just avoid the issue, you know. We have to talk about it eventually. Communication is key.”

“And he’s still on about the talking.” Sera shook her head in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, I just came here to _help_ you, all right? Not to look at your skinny arse, and definitely _not_ to talk! Why do you even want to _talk_ , anyway?”

“Because I hurt you, and I want to apologize. How are we supposed to find a solution if you keep on deflecting?”

“Solution.” She deadpanned, eyes betraying nothing. Then she snorted and turned around. “Right. _Solutions_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” U’Din grouched at her mocking tone. “If you have something to say, then I suggest you—“

He cut himself off when Sera pulled out a small knife. She stood up and circled around him till they were facing each other. Her other hand cradled and rubbed the dull side of the knife. It made a very disturbing image.

_I don’t want to die._

His heartbeat sped up and he gulped. “Sera? What’s going on?”

“What’s the matter? A little knife making you weak in the knees?” She asked and blinked innocently, placing one hand on her hip and twirling the knife in the other.

“ _Anyone_ would be wary about a knife,” U’Din said, not taking his eyes off the spinning knife. He didn’t like where this was going. “Especially in the hands of a skilled rogue who’s pissed at you.”

The grin on her face did nothing to subvert the tense atmosphere. If anything, it just added to it. “You look a little pale in the face, Droopy. Why? You don’t think I’m going to _stab_ _you in the back_ , do you?”

 _Maybe not in the back_ , a voice in his head answered. He gulped again and kept still, senses on alert.

He didn’t really _believe_ that Sera would hurt him, but she _had_ been acting strange. And this was very much out of character!

“No, I don’t think you would.” U’Din replied after a moment of silence. Sera started throwing the knife hand-to-hand. He resisted the urge to follow it with his eyes. “But I confess, I’m a bit disturbed. What are you exactly trying to do?”

Sera didn’t reply immediately after that. Her eyes were trained on the knife jumping from hand to hand, and the Inquisitor had to admit, she made it look quite easy. U’Din knew for sure that if he tried that, he’d get a few cuts. For others, that might not seem too bad, but for him...

He stared down at his damaged, _ugly_ body and scowled. A few cuts would certainly mean nothing for most, but for him, they would be deadly if left alone to fester. They could _kill_ him. He’s suffered a lot of wounds now, and the next one might be the last.

_“If U’Din takes another wound, I am not sure if he’ll survive it. And even if he does, death will claim him much earlier than any of us would like.”_

He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. Why, why, _why_? Why the fuck was he saddled with such an awful, incurable disease? What did he do in his past life to deserve this? U’Din never boasted greatness or perfection, but he did try his best to be a good person. He knew right and wrong and the grey in-betweens. Did that mean anything, though? _No_ , of course not!

If the shems’ Maker really _did_ exist—or whatever god or goddess out there, he was going to find out who the fuck thought it was funny to give him this pathetic half-life and smite them. In fact, he should probably just kill himself right now and get to it! He eyed the glinting, silver knife in Sera’s hand and thought, _maybe_ —

A sharp, paralyzing chill ran down his spine when he imagined that knife piercing his gut. Sweat ran down his temple, and his heartbeat sped up again.

_I don’t want to die._

_‘I can’t breathe.’_ He observed. The loud beating of his heart echoed in his head. _‘What’s going on? I just thought about dying and then—‘_

There it was again, that painful jolt at the base of his spine. His hand shook a little, but he didn’t try to move it. He was so busy with the images invading his head at rapid speed, blinding him to anything else.

He imagined driving that knife up his stomach. Sera was screaming in horror, watching as blood gushed out of his stomach. She would be reduced to tears by the time U’Din fell to the ground, bathing in the pool of his own blood. She  would try making him swallow healing potions, but it was going to be of no use. He would have died from blood loss by the time she ran off to get the others. U’Din would finally be free, and that was good.

He imagined walking up to Corypheus, party of combatants in tow. They would listen to Corypheus’ tirade, how U’Din was a fool to come between him and his quest to bring Tevinter back to its former glory. They would fight, and U’Din would die as he used the last of his strength to defeat the madman. U’Din would finally be free, and that was good.

He imagined the aftermath of the Conclave explosion differently. Solas had failed to convince Cassandra that his mark was the key to closing the Breach. She would have kept him in that cell for who knows how long, and Haven would eventually be overrun by demons. U’Din would die from starvation, or he would be killed by demons. Either way, U’Din would finally be free. And that was... good.

Right?

_I don’t want to die._

_I don’t_ want to die.

 _I_ can’t _die! Not yet, not yet!_

 _How could I have been so foolish? What a cheap trick! But I can’t die, not here, not now! I can’t die, I can’t_ fail _!_

_I can’t—_

_No._

_NO!_

_STOP!_

_DON’T—_

“ _GET AWAY FROM ME!_ ”

“DROOPY!”

 

* * *

 

Shivehn lifted and turned his head. He blinked a couple of times before crooning and going back to his nap. Cole reached out and smoothened his feathers, earning a croon of his own.

“Is something wrong?” Cole asked, swaying his legs as he sat on an empty aravel. He kept his eyes on the Lavellan elves keeping themselves busy and preparing for the burning ceremony. “Is it about U’Din?”

The owl hooted once, peering up at him with one eye. Cole paused for a few moments before smiling wide.

“Good!” He beamed, nodding to himself. “That’s _good_.”

 

* * *

 

The forest surrounding them was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves on the ground and the noisy babbling of the river over the rocks. Even the air around the two elves was quiet, and both stared at each other with equal amounts of shock.

“D—Droopy?” Sera put the knife down on the raised root and bent over to check on her friend. “Hey, Droopy, are you all right? Piss, I didn’t think I’d scare you _that_ much!”

U’Din was on the ground, stunned to silence, practically strangling himself as his hand covered his neck almost possessively. He had a manic look in his eyes, and he trembled as Sera drew nearer. He whimpered.

“D-Don’t kill me.” He begged, and he missed the archer’s alarmed expression since closed his eyes. “Please don’t. I don’t—I don’t want to die!”

“Droopy...” Her eyebrows sagged with pity and guilt as she watched him. The way he was covering his neck was curious, but she chose not to focus on that. With the way he reacted, Sera knew that she had to apologize. The thought made her wince.

She knelt at his side and winced again when he stilled in anticipation, babbling on and on about not wanting to die. A cool wave of relief mixed unpleasantly with the guilt swirling in her gut. Patting his stomach a little awkwardly, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, um, sorry about that. I mean,” She paused and only continued when U’Din opened an eye to peek at her. “Okay, I’ll admit, I wanted to be mean. You were an idiot for not telling me about you having a fatal disease, and I wanted a little revenge. I just—I wanted to see how you’d react to me holding a knife in front of you, all _mysterious-like_. I wanted to see if you would accept it or do... well, something like that. But it’s not like I wanted to hurt you or anything! Didn’t expect you to scream and fall like that, either. Hey, is your back all right? You didn’t bruise anything, did you? Oh, shite, what if—“

“ _What_.” U’Din interjected, eyes wide and unbelieving. His hand relaxed its hold on his neck, and Sera let out a relieved sigh at that. “What are you on about? Are you saying that you were... just _kidding_?”

Sera flinched at the pitch of U’Din’s voice and nodded, forcing a small laugh. “Yeah, a little. Well, maybe not a little. Just wanted to... _test_ something, I suppose. But I really didn’t mean to scare you that much! If I knew, I wouldn’t have done it!”

“You piece of _shit_!” U’Din sat up suddenly, eyes alight with righteous anger. “Do you—Have you any idea what you just _did_?! My heart sped up so fast I thought I was going to drop dead right there! And you said you just wanted a little _revenge_? Well, there’s your revenge right there! What the _fuck_ , Sera!”

“Hey, I only did that because you pissed me off!” The archer stood up and glared down at him. “You kept a very important secret from me! Did you really expect me to just accept that you were _dying_? I don’t think you understand the concept of _friendship_ , Droopy! Friends tell each other things! Take notes and write a friggin’ _book_ about it!”

“So what, your solution was to _pretend_ you wanted me dead?” U’Din rose up as well and met her furious gaze with his own. “You’re absolutely mental! I already apologized for not telling you about it, didn’t I? And I thought Cassandra already explained it to you all, so I never said anything!”

“Even if she _did_ tell me, I still would have been pissed off!”

“The fuck? _Why_?”

“Because I want it to come from _you_ , turd bucket!”

“Oh, and how did you expect that to go? You want me to walk up to you and say, “hey, Sera! I’m sorry for bothering you, but my sickness is actually fatal and it’s going to kill me eventually! Brilliant, huh”?”

“ _Yes_!”

“Seriously?! I can’t believe you!”

“ _Because that’s what friends do for their friends_!” She yelled and invaded his space, balling her fist and almost hitting him with it. “If you’re pissed at something, you tell your friend about it so they can be pissed with you! If you want to play a prank, you tell your friend so they can laugh and do it with you! If you’re _dying_ , you tell your friend so they can cry and tell you that they’re going to do their best to help you!”

U’Din recoiled, taken aback by the glassiness of Sera’s eyes. Was—Was she going to _cry_? Could she even do that? “Sera—“

“You’re friggin’ _stupid_ , Droopy. I can’t believe I have to explain it to you!” She declared hotly, rubbing at her eyes till no more tears threatened to fall. “Look, I’m going to say this _once_ , but I care about you, all right? You’re my first _real_ friend, and frig if I’m just going to sit back and accept that you’re going to die!”

“Sera,” U’Din began uncertainly, though he felt something warm in his chest. He had no idea Sera cared about him _that_ much. He was touched. “I—I understand that it’s hard to accept. I mean, it took me a while to accept it, too. But there really isn’t _anything_ we can do. The Keeper did her best to look for a cure, and—“

“So we’ll look even _harder_!” Sera interjected, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “There’s _got_ to be a cure for it, Droopy! I mean, that salve thingy can do _something_ about it, so there’s probably something similar out there that will do a better job! Right?”

The hope in the girl’s eyes was painful to look at. U’Din looked away, biting his lip, unsure of how to break it to her since she looked quite adamant. In truth, U’Din _did_ want to believe her, but he was just so tired of being disappointed that he didn’t see the point of trying anymore. He tried so hard, after all, and—

He paused. _He_? As in, U’Din himself?

 _‘What_ did _I do about this? Aside from feeling sorry for myself, that is?’_ He pondered, and a new, unfamiliar light shone in his eyes as he stared at his bandaged form. He thought hard, and he remembered that day when the Keeper first told him the horrible truth about his illness.

_“You’ll die, U’Din.” The Keeper told him quietly. “Much sooner than any of us would have liked.”_

_What little hope he had flickered out like candle light. He looked down at the letters in his hands and skimmed the first two, gut twisting painfully at the mention of his fatal illness. The letter from Keeper Hawen was longer, and it expressed words of consolation to his Keeper. Some of the passages alluded to a conversation they had about him being absent from the recent Arlathvhen, and Hawen had wondered if that was why he didn’t go._

_Forcing a small smile, he looked up from the letters and asked, “Is there really  no way, Keeper? I’m not going to question it if that’s the case, but... surely there’s a possible cure?”_

_“There might be, but I’m afraid we don’t have the resources to go looking for one.” She gazed at him sadly, letting out a world-weary sigh. “Perhaps if we had the support of all the Dalish clans in Thedas, we_ might _be able to come up with something, but not all of us are friendly and willing to share secrets. It is a large flaw of our people, being so selfish, but we have much to fear.”_

_“So you’re saying that I should just give up before even trying then.” He inferred sardonically, smirking a bit._

_“Da’len, please don’t be like that. I’ll still do my best to look for a cure. Till then, just keep your chin up and live your life to the fullest.”_

_“All right.” He agreed absently, not really listening anymore. He gave her a smile and bowed. “Thank you for informing me about my situation, Keeper. I’ll be sure to be useful while I still can. I’ll take my leave now.”_

_He turned and walked out of the tent, ignoring his Keeper’s calls. He was so desperate to get away from the tent that he bumped into someone. “Sorry—“_

_“Oh, U’Din, there you are! I was just about to—“ Mahanon turned and started to smile, but then he saw the empty look on the Second’s face and frowned. “U’Din? What’s wrong? Did Ellana hurt your feelings again? I swear, she’s so—hey!”_

_The blond clung onto Mahanon and cried on the older elf’s chest. The redhead stilled for a few moments before slowly wrapping his arms around the shorter elf, looking dazed as he patted U’Din’s back. U’Din offered no explanation, and Mahanon never asked for one._

_“There, there,” He comforted. “It’s going to be all right, U’Din. Don’t worry.”_

_“No, it’s not.” U’Din cried harder, feeling sorry for himself. “It’s_ not _.”_

“Droopy? Helloooo?”

Sera waved a hand in front of his face, effectively pulling him back to reality. He blinked at her, momentarily confused by her presence. That memory must have hit him hard.

“Sorry.” He said, forcing a small smile. “Just remembered something, that’s all.”

“You looked _really_ out of it. And you had this... _pained_ expression on your face.” She frowned, eyeing his face suspiciously. Then she drew back and scowled. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

For a moment, U’Din didn’t understand what she meant. But he recalled what they were talking about before he lost himself in that memory and smiled disparagingly. “Can you blame me? I haven’t had the best of luck about this stupid illness of mine.”

“Well, that’s because all you had was that stupid Keeper of yours. And your so-called _friends_. Huh.” Sera seemed enlightened for a moment. “I think I get it. You don’t exactly have the nicest friends, so I guess it’s not your fault you don’t know what _real_ friendship is like. I’m forgiving you for being stupid this time, but next time I’m _really_ kicking your arse, yeah?”

“Thanks?” U’Din said uncertainly. Then he sighed and looked away. “You really shouldn’t bother though, Sera. I mean, I’m touched that you want to help, but there are some things you can’t control. This stupid sickness of mine may as well be one of those things. I promise not to die before we defeat Corypheus, though—“

“ _Shut it_ , Droopy. I don’t want to hear you say that ever again!” Sera grabbed him by the shoulders again and shook him. She looked very determined. “We’re going to look for a stupid cure, and we’re going to find it and put it to good use! Your sickness will piss off, you’ll be happy, and you and Solas can have elfy magic babies together! Or something.”

U’Din squawked. “W-What are you saying? Magic babies! I thought you _hated_ magic!”

“Yeah, I still think it’s scary as shite, but you’re a mage and you’re all right. I suppose.” The archer frowned briefly before shrugging. She steered him back to the raised root and grabbed the knife before making him sit down. She grinned down at him. “And you focused on the wrong thing! I bet you’d _want_ your sickness to piss off and be happy, don’t you? And make babies with Solas.”

“O-Of _course_ I want it to go away. Who wouldn’t? And you ass, Solas and I _can’t_ make babies. We’re both men.”

“Won’t stop you from trying anyway, I bet. But you can’t do it since you’re sick. I mean, that’s what happened with Mehammy, right?”

U’Din blanched and fidgeted, looking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _Right_.” Sera indulged him, though she eyed him speculatively. She placed a hand on his shoulder and steadied him. “Now, don’t move, all right?”

“Why, what are you— _hey_!” He briefly felt the flat side of the knife on his scalp and jumped, heart pounding against his chest. A few short strands fell on the ground, and he stared at them. “What—“

“Eugh, if you just sit _quietly_ for a moment, I can fix this mess on your head. It’s been driving me _mad_ since I first saw it!” She ranted, pulling him back to sit down. “Honestly, this was what I _really_ wanted to do with the knife, but again, _revenge_. So sit still, unless you really want to get cut.”

U’Din’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to come up with an argument against this. By the time a huge chunk of hair fell to the ground, he resigned to his fate and sighed, relaxing. “I _hope_ you know what you’re doing, Sera. I’ll beat the shit out of you if I look awful.”

“Don’t worry, Droopy, I’m _loads_ better than Bitchy at this. And if you don’t like it, I’ll cut my hair the same so we can look awful together! It’ll be _brilliant_!”

“You’re insane. Really, really _insane_.”

“What are friends for, Droopy?” Sera grinned and laughed. A few moments later, her smile become more serene, and she focused on her task. “What are friends for.”

 

* * *

 

 Solas’ ear twitched, and he paused his exploration of the wood surrounding the camp. For a moment, he thought he just heard someone screaming. He turned and narrowed his eyes, wondering if he was hearing things.

He shrugged and continued his task, using his staff as a walking stick. Just as he was about to inspect one of the clan’s markers on a large boulder, a breeze swept past him, and he turned to see a translucent wolf sitting by his feet.

“You found anything?” He asked, not really expecting a verbal answer. The wolf nodded and laid something by his feet, disappearing just as Solas knelt down to inspect it. He picked up the black feather and raised a brow at it.

 _Another_ feather? He was starting to doubt the effectiveness of his spell. He narrowed his eyes at his staff, as if it was the culprit behind the faulty technique. He sighed and shook his head, knowing that being in denial was no use. The staff was certainly part of the problem, but it didn’t change the fact that it was _he_ who was weak.

 _‘I have to get stronger soon, if I want to carry out my plan.’_ Solas thought solemnly to himself. Sparing one last glance at the black feather, he threw it over his shoulder, a bit miffed at not finding _anything_ useful.

He tilted his head to look at the sky and sighed. The sun was setting, and the clan was going to perform a burning ceremony for the dead. It genuinely intrigued him because the Dalish typically buried their dead. Like _they_ did.

 _‘And what a mistake that was.’_ The hedgemage thought sadly. Visions of an undead army overwhelming cities and villages flashed briefly in his mind before he willed them away.

Despite his curiosity, Solas knew he had to search a little more before returning to the camp. Something was clearly _off_ here, and the sooner he found out what that was, the better.

 _‘And if I can’t find that around here,’_ He thought, turning and stepping on the feather he had discarded. _‘Then that means the answer lies elsewhere.’_

He walked away, vanishing into the thick trees of the forest. If he had looked back, he would have noticed that the feather did not suffer from the weight of his foot; its vane a smooth and silky black.

 

* * *

 

“Where _is_ he?” Cassandra stood impatiently by the edge of the camp where she knew U’Din left. She turned to the path, half-annoyed, half-concerned. “Do you sense him nearby, Cole?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Cole shook his head, making the owl hoot indignantly as it hopped. “Oh, sorry, Shivehn. Forgot that you were there.”

“How are you not concerned? He should have come back _ages_ ago.” Cassandra huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

The spirit nodded at that, though he looked sad. “He should have. But he was hard to find, so he sort-of drifted about. Not his fault.”

The Seeker blinked and narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you talking about? Are you saying that he’s taking a leisurely _stroll_? Maker! There’s no telling what could lie await in the forest! And _Sera_ went to look for him, too!

“Could they be in danger?” She suddenly looked very anxious. Glancing one last time at the path, she shook her head and started walking away. “That’s it, I’m calling the scouts—“

Cole suddenly perked up. “Oh! They’re here!”

“What? _Where_?”

She turned, and true enough, she saw Sera appear from the bend, chatting and gesturing empathically. U’Din soon followed from the bend, and Cassandra sang praises to the Maker in her head. Oh, he was safe! The way he stalked out of the camp worried her, and she was glad that he appeared reasonably calmer now.

But he still made them worry, which was absolutely _inexcusable_. As Inquisitor, he should have been more aware of the possible dangers to his person, so disappearing for as long as he did was irresponsible! Perhaps Cassandra should have accompanied him.

“But he was _bathing_.” Cole reasoned, but Cassandra had become used to the spirit replying to thoughts in her head from time to time. Mostly. “U’Din wouldn’t want you to watch him bathe. He doesn’t like the way his body looks right now, so he wouldn’t appreciate you watching him.”

Cassandra reddened and turned to chastise him. “I would _never_ watch the Inquisitor bathe! I would have respected his privacy.”

Cole blinked, then gave her an innocently confused look. “Are you sure?”

The Seeker let out a disgusted noise, but the flush on her face remained. “Never mind, Cole. Let’s just... see how the Inquisitor is faring.”

The two of them walked down the path to meet the pair halfway. As they got nearer, Cassandra started to notice something different about the Inquisitor. The clothes were obviously different, but they were similar to the garb U’Din used to wear around Haven. No, something was really different, and it had nothing to do with that.

When they were a mere distance apart, Cassandra froze, causing Cole to almost bump into her. She blinked a few moments before exclaiming, “What in the _World_ —“

“Cassandra! _Brilliant_ , isn’t it?” The archer cackled and held on to the blushing Inquisitor’s arm before he could run away. She held him by his shoulders and presented him like a well-groomed mabari. “I did it myself! Now we can look at him without pretending we’re not making fun of him in our heads!”

“Wow, I can see what I’m missing from _real friendship_ , Sera.” U’Din said blandly, cupping a hand to his face and pretending to swoon. “Oh, yes, I see _very_ clearly now. What _ever_ shall I do without a friend like _you_?”

“Arse! You know you like it!” Sera jeered, grinning and crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, you looked at it and got all stunned-like. Silence is a good thing, yeah?”

“I was stunned silent because of _something_ , all right. But well,” U’Din lifted his hand and ran it briefly through his short hair. He smiled a little and said, “I guess it’s all right. Better than that bird’s nest I had a while ago, anyway.”

“Ha, _bird’s nest_! Brilliant! You should tell Bitchy that!”

“And suffer her wrath? Uh, no thanks. You can tell her if you want.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I _will_. And I’ll enjoy it because she’s a _bitch_.”

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra joined the conversation after the shock lost its hold on her. She glared at him reproachfully and said, “Where have you been? I was starting to become anxious! You’ve been gone for so long, I had half a mind to call the scouts to search for you!”

“That’s not true. She had an entire mind on it.” Cole informed them helpfully, unaware of the glare the Seeker sent his way. He smiled at him and said. “You look clean. And _happy_. That is _good_.”

U’Din blinked before flushing, scratching the back of his head and laughing slightly. “Thanks, Cole. I’m glad you approve.”

Cole beamed. The Seeker rolled her eyes and decided to give her own comment. “I’ll admit the look surprised me, given what I’m used to, but I suppose it still suits you. Be prepared for some questions, though. I’m sure the others would want an explanation.”

“Really? It’s just hair, though.” U’Din clearly didn’t believe that, given the frown on his face. It was a well-known fact among the Inner Circle that the Inquisitor _loved_ his hair to the point of obsession.

Cassandra smiled and shook her head. “You’ll be surprised.”

“Brother U’Din!” A young elf ran up to them, and U’Din recognized her to be the halla herder’s apprentice named Mara. “The Keeper just asked me to go find you. Everything’s set for the burning ceremony, so you should probably go meet up with the Keeper and Sister Ellana now.”

“Eugh. Bitchy.” Sera complained and turned to him, not seeing the scandalized look on the girl’s face. “Not jealous of you one bit, nuh-uh.”

“Thank you, Mara. Please tell the Keeper that I’m on my way.” He smiled, then frowned disapprovingly at Sera when the girl was far enough away. “Do you mind not insulting my clansmen in front of my other clansmen? They won’t approve of the Inquisition if you keep doing that.”

“What am I, some kind of lover you’re introducing to your family? _Eugh_!” Sera actually shuddered at that, and U’Din had enough self-worth to be offended. “Speaking of, where’s Solas? Complaining to the young people about everything?”

“I actually have no idea where he is.” Cassandra replied, frowning. “He vanished a few hours ago, and I haven’t seen him since. Perhaps he decided to help the clan with its preparations?”

U’Din resisted the urge to snort. Solas helping a Dalish clan with its traditions? He’d probably sooner wear boots or hate magic. “ _I_ have to prepare for the ceremony. I should have helped, but well. Where will you be during the ceremony? I wouldn’t want to force you to stay if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll be nearby, don’t you fret. It’s an intimate event, and none of us would dare encroach such a solemn gathering. Would you be all right, Inquisitor?”

“I will be.” U’Din nodded, walking past them to find the Keeper. The solemn and heavy atmosphere in the camp affected him immediately, and he readied himself. At least he remembered the prayers.

 

* * *

 

The ceremony went as well as he thought it would. Despite being away for so long, U’Din still oversaw the ceremony like he had never left. The prayers, he was still able to chant with genuine grief and ardency. The Keeper offered a eulogy for the dead, and so did he and Ellana. The two of them barely spoke to one another, and he doubted that either of them would even try tonight. The First’s outburst still weighed heavy on his mind, and his cheek tingled at the memory.

U’Din watched quietly as the bodies burned and the crowd cried. Mothers mourned for their brave sons and daughters, and the fathers fell to their knees, asking the gods, why, _why_. The Inquisitor began to feel responsible for their losses again, and he openly expressed his grief along with them.

Such brave people. He wished them well, wherever their spirits decided to go.

“Vhenan.”

He sniffed and turned to the source of the sound, and he saw Mahanon standing a short distance away from him. In the harsh light of the fire, U’Din could see that he too shed some tears.

 _‘And why shouldn’t he? His friends died today.’_ He reproached himself. Wiping the tears from eyes, he forced a smile at Mahanon and said, “Hey, Mahanon. How are you holding up?”

The head hunter let out a sigh and returned the smile, though it too seemed strained. “Well, I could be doing better. A lot of my friends died today, you know? I knew them well. Very well.”

“I’m sorry.” U’Din bowed his head, not knowing what else to say. “If I hadn’t been so selfish, or if I had come by sooner, we could have—“

“Could have, should have. But would we have?” The hunter interjected softly, turning to face the large fire as it reached the skies. For security reasons, they would have to douse the fire soon, but he supposed that the clan deserved a few moments to grieve. They would probably look for a new campsite, anyway. “I’m not in a position to say that you were selfish, because you had a perfectly good reason to stay. The shems forced you at first, of course, but I know you stayed because you wanted to help. That’s just who you are, U’Din.”

U’Din blinked, very unaccustomed to a sensible Mahanon. But then again, he and the hunter barely had anything to grieve or talk deeply about. His eyes focused back on the fire, a frown on his face.

Had that been why they had a falling out? Well, perhaps that was partly the reason, but U’Din didn’t think about the lack of substance in their relationship until recently. And that was because of... _that_.

He shuddered at the memory. Please, please, _please_ , if there really _were_ gods out there, they would find some way to make sure that they would never talk about that. _Ever_. He’d grovel and make tributes for Falon’Din if he had to, because out of all the Elvhen gods, he disliked that one the _most_ —

“U’Din,” Mahanon broke the silence between them, turning to face him. He looked solemn. “Can we... talk? In private? There are a few things I want to say to you.”

Well, shit. That’s what happens when you bet on gods that may or may not exist. U’Din shouldn’t have bothered. He turned to Mahanon and acted as if he hadn’t an inkling what they were going to talk about. “I suppose we can. The ceremony is over, and everyone would want to have a quiet moment before the feast.”

Mahanon smiled gratefully and nodded. He started walking towards the forest, and U’Din followed him silently. The deeper they went, the more anxious the former Second felt.

“I suppose this is far enough.” Mahanon said, stopping at a clearing that was home to a few patches of flowers. He smiled a bit and pointed at a dead log by the large rock. “Wanna sit there?”

“Sure.” U’Din shrugged, walking over to one end of the log to sit on it. Mahanon had placed his golden sword down behind it, and U’Din smiled a little at the sight of it. “It’s shiny. You must take care of it well.”

“Of course, I would. You made it for me.” The hunter smiled. U’Din hadn’t realized how short the log was, because the moment Mahanon sat on the other end, they were almost touching. He hoped his heartbeat wasn’t as loud as he thought it was.

“S-So, what did you want to talk about? I’m guessing it’s pretty serious.” U’Din began, forcing another smile.

Quite suddenly, Mahanon looked tired. He turned his head away briefly and said, “You don’t have to pretend to not know what this is about, U’Din. I’m sure you know exactly what I wanted to discuss with you.”

The blond held the smile for a few more moments before allowing it to drop. He sighed and ran a hand through his now short hair, unsure how to proceed. “Sorry. I honestly don’t know how to act. We never really—“

“Talked?” If Mahanon had turned to look at U’Din, he would have seen the stunned expression on his face. The hunter kept his eyes trained on his interlocked hands. “I suppose we never did. Not seriously, anyway.”

“That’s—“ U’Din stopped himself before he could protest, and he paused for a moment before conceding. “Yeah. You’re right. You only talked about what happened during the hunts, and I would just be happy with whatever flower or hide you managed to get me.”

“And you only talked about how unfair and mean Ellana was to you, and I would offer you whatever support I could.” Mahanon had a wistful smile on his face. “Of course, Ellana never approved of us, so she never listened whenever I told her to back off.”

“It’s sweet that you always did that, though.” U’Din said, digging a bit at the grass below him. “I never once believed that she’d stop, but it touched me all the same that you still tried every time.”

“Of course I would still try.” Mahanon scoffed. “It’s what you do for the one you love.”

Whatever serene atmosphere they managed to create broke after that. U’Din became guarded, and even Mahanon tensed a bit. The two of them sat on that log for what seemed hours before the hunter attempted to talk again.

“U’Din, we can’t avoid talking about it. You know that, right?” Mahanon asked with a hopeful lilt to his voice. “Problems can’t be solved if they’re left alone.”

“I know that.” He replied, shifting his body slightly so he could face the redhead. He gave the older elf a sad smile as he continued. “But you can’t blame me for being a bit... apprehensive. After all, it’s a bit humiliating on my part.”

“If you think that’s bad, try being on the side that’s actually at fault.” Mahanon laughed a bit, though it lacked the usual smugness or amusement. He frowned and cradled his face in his hands. “I’m so _sorry_ , U’Din. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to say it, but there you go. I’m so sorry. So, so _sorry_.”

“It’s—It’s all right, Mahanon.” U’Din fidgeted, wondering for a moment if he should try to comfort his clansman. His hand hovered above the hunter’s shoulder, but he retracted it before he could actually touch the man’s skin. “It’s not completely your fault. I mean, it’s not like I said anything, and—“

“Why didn’t you?” Mahanon turned to face him, looking very sorrowful and regretful. U’Din looked away, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me that I was hurting you? I would have stopped! You know I would.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” U’Din hugged himself (as much as he could with one arm, anyway) and turned away completely, letting his back face his former lover. “I didn’t know that you would. Or that I even wanted you to. So I just... let it happen.”

“What? How could you say that? Why would you think I wouldn’t stop? And what do you mean “even if you wanted to”? Are you saying you _liked_ it that way?”

“Of course not!” U’Din flushed hotly and composed himself. “I just—I just thought you would probably be disappointed. You looked forward to it, and I did too, really. We were both excited to finally have sex, and it was really horrible that it turned out that way. And it’s not like it didn’t feel... _good_ after a while. I only pretended in the first few minutes, but _after_ that, I was genuinely into it.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense actually. You were a lot louder later on. And then... yeah.” Mahanon, who usually boasted bravado and confidence, blushed at the intimate memory. He cleared his throat and added, “Nevertheless, you really should have told me. Then again, _I_ should have noticed something was wrong. I suppose we shouldn’t have tried that at all. Some of the elders told me that the stretching could possibly cause bleeding, but I _did_ try to be careful. Maybe _I_ should have let you stretch _me_ —“

“ _Mahanon_.” U’Din blushed a bit at the thought of him asking _questions_ about same sex coupling. And from the elders in their clan, too! He actually believed he knew exactly who the other was talking about, which was worse.

“Ah, sorry. Got carried away.” The redhead paused and scratched the back of his head. He relaxed a bit and turned to stare at U’Din’s back. “Anyway, I really am sorry, U’Din. For hurting you. For adding to your wounds, and for making the Keeper angry at us. I still have nightmares from that lecture.”

U’Din winced. Yeah, that was pretty awful. He couldn’t meet the Keeper’s eyes for a week. “I understand, Mahanon. Again, you’re not entirely at fault. I should have told you when I felt something was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Do you forgive me, then? For being an ass and a coward?”

“Of course. I couldn’t stay mad at you for that.”

“Then why am I still talking to your back and not your face?”

The blond tensed, then he sighed and scratched his head. “Mahanon—“

“What? What’s so unreasonable about a little eye contact? You barely looked at me the entire time. It’s like you don’t _want_ to be here talking to me.”

“It’s not that, Mahanon.” To prove his point, U’Din shifted till he was facing the older elf again. Deep violet met green briefly till U’Din could barely handle it, and he looked away again.

“Ha! See? You can barely stand me.” Mahanon let out a hollow laugh, stomping his foot a few times on the ground. “I can’t believe this. One mistake and I’m hardly worth your time anymore. This is so _frustrating_.”

“What?” U’Din couldn’t help but be indignant at what he heard. “You seriously don’t mean that, do you? Need I remind you that that _one mistake_ possibly caused me my life? I bled down there till morning! And you made me stay in the river while you woke up the Keeper!”

“I panicked! How else was I supposed to stop the bleeding? I didn’t have your salve, so I had to go get it! But I couldn’t just _leave_ you to bleed out, could I?”

“And you made a whole spectacle of yourself, too! You woke up half the camp! Everyone thought I _died_ , you asshole! Then everyone thought you _fucked me to death_ , which you well _could_ have done!”

“And I already told you how sorry I was, U’Din! I don’t know what else to say, what else to do!” Mahanon stood up and started pacing, his voice rising with each step he took. “I thought things were going well. I became head hunter, I had you, and I was enjoying myself. Then that one fuck-up ruined us, and I have no idea how to fix it!

“So tell me how, U’Din. Tell me how to fix this!” The redhead turned around and knelt in front of U’Din, eyes glassy with sorrow. “I can’t do this alone. You have to help me along. Please, just—just tell me what to do. I miss you. I want to call you vhenan and you wanting it too—don’t think I haven’t noticed! I want you to welcome my touches again. I want... I want what we had before!”

U’Din felt completely thrown off. He looked down at Mahanon’s pleading face briefly before looking away, unable to see the proud hunter like that. In a way, it felt good to be wanted so much, and a part of him wanted to welcome Mahanon back in his life. He had been one of his few friends, and no matter what Sera said, he was a decent one. He genuinely cared about him, which was probably why he responded so well to the hunter’s attentions.

But ever since their horrible coupling, U’Din had avoided Mahanon, and the other gave him space. In that time, U’Din was able to discover that what he felt for Mahanon was not as deep as he first thought. It was shameful to admit, but he had only been attracted to the hunter on a physical level. He cared about him as a friend, but as a lover? A potential bond mate? Mahanon would have driven him insane with all the bragging! And he had been controlling at one point too, always expecting U’Din to be there to greet him when he came back from a hunt. Never mind him being a craftsman apprentice or the clan’s Second! Mahanon always got his way, and U’Din realized he had always hated that.

Mahanon was a good friend, that much was true. But as a lover? He proved himself a bit too clingy and self-important for U’Din’s tastes. So U’Din stayed away, unwilling to rekindle any sort of romantic relationship with him. The venture to Ferelden and becoming Inquisitor had given him a good excuse to distance himself, too.

But now the problem caught up to him, and it was staring imploringly at him. U’Din knew what must be done, and he should have done this a long time ago. He just wished it happened during more peaceful times, and that he had a better excuse.

“Mahanon,” U’Din began slowly, taking one of the hunter’s hands in his. The man looked hopeful, and the blond felt awful for having to crush it. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea you were suffering. I really didn’t mean to avoid you for so long, but I had so much on my mind at that time. I realized that you and I were incompatible since we failed to communicate about something so simple. I want to say that I’ve been trying to find a way to break it to you, but that would be lying. I’m sorry.”

The dawning anguish on Mahanon’s face was extremely heartbreaking to watch, but U’Din owed the hunter his full attention. The other elf pulled his hand away from U’Din’s grasp and stood, shaking his head in denial.

“No. You don’t mean that. _Please_ tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m sorry, Mahanon. I wish it was different, but I don’t feel the same anymore.” _At all_ , actually. But small lies wouldn’t hurt. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t mind if you start hating me, or cursing me, or joining your sister whenever she insults me—“

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Mahanon’s shoulders tensed as he balled his fists, and U’Din could practically see his hair rising from anger. “ _I don’t mind if you start hating me_ —are  you kidding me? What a fucking horrible thing to say! Have a bit of self-respect! I always _hated_ that about you! Someone like you shouldn’t be this pathetic!”

U’Din winced, though at this point he was sure he deserved whatever Mahanon flung at him. “I’m sorry, Mahanon. I haven’t exactly done this before, and I really don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying my best to end things with you peacefully.”

“You want to end a relationship _peacefully_. Without hurting me.” The redhead repeated blandly before guffawing loudly. “Do you even hear yourself? How fucking illogical that sounds? How can you end our relationship without breaking my heart, U’Din? Don’t insult me!”

“What do you want me to say?” U’Din exclaimed, tempted to rip his hair out and go bald. “I’m really not good at this, Mahanon,  you know that! I’m trying my best here!”

“You can’t end things between us without hurting me, U’Din. That’s not how it works.” Mahanon looked away, clenching his fists and trying to control his breathing.

“I really am sorry, Mahanon. I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could take it back. Tell me it was a joke.”

“Mahanon, that would be lying. And you deserve more than just a lie.” U’Din declared sincerely, smartly ignoring the way Mahanon tensed. “You deserve more than someone who lies to you just so you would be happy. Someone who loves you for who you are and what you do, and never expecting more than that.”

“Is that what we were, then? Were we a lie?” He gritted his teeth, though his voice lacked the same aggressiveness as before.

U’Din smiled sadly and shook his head. “Not completely. I do care about you. Just not the way that you want me to.”

For several moments, they were silent. Mahanon had sat back on his end of the log, and U’Din leaned back, feeling slightly less heavy than he had in months. He regretted hurting his former lover’s feelings, but it was impossible for them to keep up the pretense. Neither of them deserved to live in a farce. U’Din knew that Mahanon had admirers in the clan, so he was sure that the older elf would find someone else eventually. He didn’t dare think about his own love life, lest he become too hopeful.

Speaking of, he hadn’t seen Solas for quite some time. Where did he run off to? The last time they spoke was in the tent, and they didn’t exactly end things on a light note.

The bushes in front of them rustled, and they both froze. Immediately, Mahanon reached for his sword behind the log and assumed a defensive stance, and U’Din’s hand sparked with charged lightning. Just as he was about to strike with a bolt, the newcomer revealed himself, and he blinked bemusedly at them.

“Inquisitor. And ser Mahanon.” Solas’ face betrayed nothing as he stared at the two elves. “Did I interrupt a private moment? If I intruded, I apologize.”

“Ah, no, Solas! You don’t need to apologize. You couldn’t have known.” U’Din gestured emphatically with one hand, glancing at Mahanon briefly. The hunter had put his sword back in its harness, but he was obviously tense. Solas was probably the last person he needed to see at the moment. “He and I were just talking, see. Nothing to worry about.”

“In a secluded part of the forest? Just the two of you?” Solas raised a brow. Then he shrugged. “I assume that the ceremony is over then, if you two are here enjoying each other’s company.”

There was a slight edge to Solas’ voice that U’Din wasn’t sure he liked. He waved his hand again and shook his head. “Ah, no, nothing like that! Um, wait, we were having a private discussion, but it’s not like—“

“U’Din, why do you have to explain yourself to him? We were having a _private_ conversation. I highly doubt that it’s any of _his_ business.”

“Ah, I’d have to politely disagree,” Solas refuted, unaffected when Mahanon turned to glare at him. “Seeing as the Inquisitor’s clan was possibly targeted, it’s possible to assume that he himself could be in danger. Leaving him alone where he could be easily overwhelmed would be irresponsible, and I’m surprised you willingly made it possible for such a thing to happen.”

“He wouldn’t have been in danger because _I’m_ with him. And U’Din’s a pretty powerful mage. More powerful than _you_ , I bet.” Mahanon declared haughtily and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I imagine he might be.” Solas agreed easily with a smile that didn’t quite match the steely coldness of his eyes. “It doesn’t change the fact that you left yourselves vulnerable to an ambush. A rogue could have easily snuck behind U’Din and slit his throat. _I_ managed to surprise you, didn’t I?”

The Inquisitor held a hand to his throat and shuddered fearfully. Mahanon growled and clenched his fist. “Listen here, _hahren_ —“

“No, _you_ listen, _da’len_!” Solas interjected firmly, his face void of any previous amusement. “I care not about what you two discussed. Your private lives are yours to operate as you please. But U’Din is the _Inquisitor_ , and he should have known better than to leave himself open! And _you_ shouldn’t have been so selfish as to bring him here for whatever reason! A private discussion could have easily happened back at camp.”

“You _fucking_ —“

“Mahanon, _stop_!” U’Din prevented the redhead from drawing his sword by standing between him and Solas. “Solas is right. We shouldn’t have been complacent. If the clan is a target, it’s likely for them to be lying in wait nearby.”

“Your Keeper might be expecting you back soon,” Solas added helpfully, though his voice had taken a strange tone at the mention of Deshanna. “She might be looking for you. As well as Cassandra and the others.”

U’Din winced at the mention of the Seeker. Oh, he was going to get _two_ lectures later, he was almost sure of it. “Yeah, I think they might be. We should probably head back to camp now—“

“But we’re not finished talking, U’Din! You didn’t think I was going to let it end _there_ , did you?”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Mahanon. And I don’t think you want to pick up where we left off with Solas around.” The blond braved a glance at the hedge mage, immediately withdrawing with a slight flush on his face.

Mahanon wanted to scream.

“Am I preventing closure? I apologize.”

“No, Solas, it’s okay. Where _were_ you, anyway? I didn’t see you at the ceremony, or anywhere near Cassandra and the others.”

“I’ll admit, I was exploring the area a bit. One can’t be too careful, after all. I searched for anything amiss, though I daresay I could have missed cloaked rogues lurking about. My warning wasn’t meant to simply scare you, Inquisitor.”

“Ah, no, I know you weren’t! But it’s great that you took the initiative to look around, Solas. I should have probably done that myself. I’m feeling a bit foolish now, actually.”

“You had a lot on your mind, U’Din. The deaths of one’s clansmen aren’t to be taken lightly, and I respected  your need to have space. Though I do hope you took my advice into consideration.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not blaming myself as much anymore. And I’ll try even harder to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

“As much? Well, I suppose that is an improvement. Still, as long as you try, Inquisitor, you are already doing the right thing. For what it’s worth, I do grieve the loss of your clansmen. They deserved better.”

“Thank you, Solas. That’s very kind of you to say. Perhaps you’d like to observe the feast with us? I know you missed the burning, but maybe you’d like to—huh, Mahanon? Where are you going?”

The hunter had lost his patience and started stomping back towards the camp. He was partially surprised that U’Din still noticed him leave, but that didn’t cushion the harsh, crushing fall of the reality happening in front of him.

“I’m heading back to camp. The Keeper might want me to do some rounds, in case there are still some stragglers about.”

“Oh, yeah. I suppose that makes sense. You sure you don’t want to join the feast? I’m sure the kids would want to—“

“No, I need to report to the Keeper. It’s my job, after all.” He finally turned and gave U’Din a watery smile. “Good night, U’Din. Thank you for indulging me tonight and... take care of yourself.”

Mahanon smiled one more time at U’Din before sending a look of utter _hate_ in Solas’ way. He ignored the blond’s calls, and he tried his best to walk away from his former lover and the smug mage with a bit of dignity. Besotted as he was with U’Din, he would die before showing weakness. He smiled sadly at that, mourning U’Din’s incapability to do the same.

 _‘How are you supposed to change the World for us when you’re pathetic like that? Fool.’_ He thought bitterly. The light of the fire came into view, and he schooled his features well enough that nobody could tell that he had just gotten his heart broken by the Inquisitor.

And to think he had wanted to tell U’Din _everything_ the Keeper and Ellana kept secret from him, too. Oh, well. Mahanon never claimed to be above a bit of spite. U’Din could die in the Fade for all he cared, now. _Hmph._    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya know, I've been away for so long that I don't really remember what I had planned for this chapter originally. I had the outline, sure, but it strangely didn't make sense to me. OH NO. I like this chapter though, even if it focused more on relationships and character development than plot. Kinda tempted to call it an interlude because of it, but aaaaah, all that's important to plot too! After all, U'Din had another haircut, so that's important, right? HAHAHA /shot
> 
> I hope you weren't too frustrated with this chapter. ; u ; I promise an even better one on the next update! We'll leave the Lavellan clan and start preparing for the Winter Palace ball! Yey!


	35. The Remembering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, another update! This one doesn't end with them marching back to Skyhold, unfortunately, but I think it has enough answers to keep you guys too busy to notice the lack of plot development lmao. I've also put it a tentative number of chapters this monster has, and that's just based on my outline. It can get shorter or _longer_ , depending. And Rikka says I'm being stingy with 75 _HA_.
> 
> Not beta'd, because Rikka is still busy, but she gave me a huge lecture on how to punctuate dialogue .____. You'll notice the change as you read the chapter, and I'll slowly do this for the previous ones, too, so please don't yell at me for the inconsistencies. ; u ;

_He_ _was standing in front of a large, crystal tree._

_The tree itself was a marvel, the largest standing in the dark, deserted plaza. Bluish vines hugged its trunk, like a child unwilling to part with its parent. It glimmered beautifully under the light of the moons, its curving branches cradling the larger moon like it were a beloved babe._

_He heard footsteps drawing near and sighed. Turning, he gave the newcomer a look before nodding._

_“My friend,” he intoned. “You are late.”_

 

* * *

 

Ellana watched as Mahanon led U’Din into the forest. Her fool brother wanted to discuss the sorry state of their relationship, no doubt, and she found it both hilarious and sad that it took him this long to finally approach the deadweight. Personally, she didn’t see the point; U’Din obviously didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and Ellana couldn’t blame him, knowing what had happened. Not even hating his guts could make her ignore something like _that_.

She shrugged it off. Well, it was bound to happen eventually, so she supposed there was nothing wrong with leaving the two alone for now. She only regretted that she wouldn’t be able to witness U’Din rejecting Mahanon gently like he was wont to do, and that would have been a riot.

_‘And Mahanon would be so_ devastated _about it too. Fool,’_ she snorted as the thought came to her.

As much as she would like to poke fun at Mahanon for his stupid fixation on U’Din, he was still her brother; she cared about his well-being and took great pains to keep him safe. His happiness was her top priority, and if the Keeper was right about U’Din, then associating with him would jeopardize that. Ellana had realized this much earlier on for herself, in fact, and could only mourn that Mahanon still hadn’t. Because he _loved_ him.

The First snorted and leaned on her staff. Love her brother she might, but he was such a fool. Such a fool, indeed.

After a period of idleness, a movement near the trees nearby caught her eye, and she blinked when she saw the idiot himself emerge from the darkness. Speak of the demon and he shall appear, it seemed. His gait lacked the usual amount of self-assurance, as expected, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Called it_.

“Took you long enough. How did it go?” she asked, turning as he just passed by her. She frowned and reached for his arm to stop him, “Hey! I asked you a question, Mahanon.”

“I’m not in the mood, sis. Go away,” he bit out, but it lacked any real ferocity to it.

She frowned. “That bad?”

“Well, it didn’t go exactly as planned, so yeah, I feel pretty shitty right now,” he said simply, not looking at her. He smiled sadly at the ground and shook his head. “He says he doesn’t feel the same anymore. That—That really _hurts_.”

“So you and U’Din are finally over,” she said, taking a moment to let that sink in. Nodding, she let go of him and added, “That’s good. I never really liked you two together, you know. I only tolerated it because he made you disgustingly happy, but I’m just glad that I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess you would.” Mahanon looked extremely heart-broken, and a bit of Ellana’s cool facade broke at the sight of it. She had never seen him this down before, and she hated that U’Din was the cause of it.

“You deserve better,” she said after a moment of silence. At seeing the question in his face, she added, “I know what the Keeper said, but U’Din’s really not that different from the rest of us, which is why I hate that he’s getting so much special treatment. I never really saw him fawn over you the way you do him, and you deserve someone who’s as grossly in-love with you as you are with them. So. You deserve better. _Much_ better.”

For a moment, it seemed like Mahanon would just accept her attempt at reassurance and walk away with a nod. But then he laughed, and it sounded so forced and hollow that Ellana couldn’t help but wince.

“Oh, Ellana. That’s _exactly_ what he said to me.” The hunter looked less gloomy for that moment and gave her a smile so broken it hurt to look at him. “Now we _both_ lost something amazing. How fucked up is that, right? But at least I held on to him. You just let him go, the fool you are.”

“You’re the fool for being so infatuated with him.” Ellana sneered.

Mahanon gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m just being practical. It’s not like I started courting him because he was hot, you know. Though that’s always a plus.”

“You’re disgusting. Go back to wallowing in self-pity.”

“Will do,” he agreed with a sigh. With a little salute, he turned and started walking away. “And by the way? U’Din _is_ different from the rest of us. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

She watched him vanish among the larger crowd within the camp, but not before his back had straightened, and his walk had the usual haughty spring. Sighing, she stared at the dying bonfire, silently mulling over his words.

Not long after, she noticed something else move out of the trees, and she had no doubt that it would be none other than U’Din. She turned and saw him, looking far less gloomy (and with less hair, too) than she thought he would. That would have pissed her off (because how _dare_ he?), but she noticed that he was speaking to the clean-faced elf.

She jerked when she sensed a spike of magic in her pocket. Confused, she fished out one of her Keeper’s charmed feathers, which was emitting a peculiar glow. It reacted to the pair quite strongly; the outline of the vane glowing stronger as they got nearer.

How suspicious.

Narrowing her eyes and scowling, Ellana pocketed the feather. She met the two men halfway to block their path, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded them with suspicion. Just as she expected, U’Din deflated at the sight of her.

“O-Oh. Um.” The blond scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Ellana. Good evening. How are you?”

She rolled her eyes. Attempting to be the nice guy till the end. How annoying. It would give her great pleasure to avenge her brother in some way, but the feather in her pocket needed addressing. It didn’t react when she concentrated on U’Din. But his companion, however—

“The Remembering is going to start soon,” she said curtly, not even looking at him. Her eyes focused on Solas instead who stared blandly back at her. “The children are asking for you, U’Din. They said something about a story.”

“Oh, yes, _that_. I know what they’re talking about. Uh—“ He paused to give Solas an apologetic look. “Do you mind, Solas? They _have_ been waiting for a long time, and I’m sure they’d like to know how the story ends.”

“Not at all. Do what you must. Though I must confess, I’m curious about this story. Is it a legend from the old times?” The clean-faced elf smiled, and Ellana had to admit, it was a little disarming.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Just a story from my father’s journals. They love those.” U’Din smiled back, and the happy twinkle in his eyes made Ellana sneer.

“U’Din, just go,” she said impatiently. She gave the Inquisitor a sharp look. “ _Now_.”

“...Right. _Fine_.” He gave Ellana a sharp look of his own, which had taken her aback slightly. It quickly vanished when he gave Solas another stupid apology, and then he trotted away, the crowd growing noisier as it welcomed him.

“Hmph.” She sneered, and then turned her attention back to the hedge mage. The magic in her pocket spiked again when he started walking away, and she blocked his path, not even hiding the scowl on her face.

“First Lavellan,” Solas began amiably enough, seemingly unfazed. She wasn’t fooled, however; the brief crinkling near his eyes caught in the firelight. “Is there something amiss? You seem displeased.”

“Where have you been?” she asked, cutting to the chase. “I haven’t seen you in the camp, and I doubt that you’re the type to take a leisurely stroll.”

“Ah, and here we have the traditional Dalish welcome! I was starting to miss it, truly.” Solas commented off-handedly, and he smiled slightly when Ellana tightened her grip on her staff in warning. “I apologize for antagonizing you, First Lavellan. I was with U’Din just now, but before that I was simply investigating the perimeter. Making sure that there aren’t any suspicious people about, and nasty surprises meant for the Inquisitor. Security is your biggest concern at the moment, after all, so I’m sure you understand the need for it.”

The First snarled, “Watch your cheek, _hahren_. I _know_ that’s not what you were up to in the forest.”

“Oh? And what _was_ I up to, then, _da’len_? Since you’re so well-informed of my supposed exploits.”

“That is the question, isn’t it? Though it’s definitely _not_ what you were claiming. What power do you have to prevent _danger_ , anyway? You were by yourself. The Seeker and that—that strange _boy_ were here at the camp all day, and the deadweight took his time at the river. I had no idea where the lunatic went, but she came back with him.”

Solas lost all traces of amusement and narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his own staff a bit forward. “You will address the Inquisitor properly, First Lavellan. I understand that there is animosity between the two of you, but I won’t stand for you insulting him any longer. And neither will anyone in the Inquisition, for that matter.”

“Is that a threat?” she hissed.

“A warning. Whatever delusions you have of the Inquisitor’s incapacity, you cannot deny that he is well-respected and beloved for the good deeds he has done for both Orlais and Ferelden. For the _World_. People continue to rally to his side to fight the threat of Corypheus, and they would undoubtedly defend him from those who wish him harm. Seeing as he cares for you a great deal, he would not want anything to happen to you, whether you deserve the punishment or not.”

“And _you_ care a great deal for _him_ , I bet.” Ellana scoffed, petulantly deciding not to acknowledge the rest of his little speech. She then frowned when the hedge mage made no move to deny anything, and she looked back to see him staring blankly at her. She gaped. “You’re kidding. Even _you_?”

Solas raised a brow at her before shrugging, turning to the large bonfire. “Why is that so surprising? The Inquisitor is a kind-hearted individual who’s as strong as he is humble. He is also aware that he possesses a brain and does not shy away from using it. I hardly see how that’s unattractive.”

“But—But it’s _U’Din_! He’s so— _eugh_!” Ellana struggled to find the right words, settling instead with growling and glowering. The anger in her eyes almost matched the intensity of the fire.

“Again, I fail to understand what’s supposedly unappealing about him. It would help to use actual words, yes?”

“I just don’t know what you people see in him. He’s just _U’Din_.” the First gritted out, so focused on the _unfairness_ of it all that she didn’t catch the implied insult. She swallowed most of the bitterness, but she couldn’t help but let some of it out as she murmured, “You know, _I_ was supposed to have gone to the Conclave.”

“The Inquisitor had mentioned it once or twice. You stayed to care for your ailing Keeper, he said.”

“Yes,” She paused to look down at her left hand, briefly imagining it capable of many things. “Though in the end I had been reprimanded for it. U’Din was never supposed to have left our territory at all. It’s not safe for him. His wounds do not heal at all, and there’s only so much he can suffer before his body gives out. He’s practically wrapped in bandages, like he’s ready for his own funeral, and he’s even missing an _arm_. He’ll die long before his next birthday, we think.”

“I—I _see_.” The hedge mage’s voice actually lacked its cool indifference then, reeking instead of deep concern. He was definitely bothered by what she said, and even _Ellana_ was bothered, but not for the same reasons. “You are confident about this? Nothing can be done at all?”

“U’Din’s sickness isn’t anything we’ve seen or heard about, and I’m sure your Inquisition is just as stumped, considering nothing has been done for him at this point. The salve just stops his wounds from smarting, but it’s not a cure. There _is_ no cure. That’s why the Keeper keeps him confined in the main camp, though Seconds are usually assigned to the smaller camps.”

The blue in Solas’ eyes became steely. “Ah yes, he did mention being _sheltered_. Though, I suppose, the term _imprisoned_ is a much more accurate term for what he went through.”

“ _What_?” Ellana turned her head, not expecting the comment at all. “What are you on about? _Imprisoned_? I hardly think so!”

“I’m not surprised. Jailors hardly think ill of their own actions, especially if they have already deluded themselves to be considering the _well-being_ of their prisoner. It’s quite similar to how humans used to herd mages into Circles before the rebellion.”

“Don’t pretend to know enough to judge us! We are not like the _shems_!” she snarled. “U’Din’s sickness makes even the _tiniest_ prick that draws blood a threat to his life! You cannot blame the Keeper—blame _us_ for wanting to keep him safe!”

“And your best solution is to isolate him, of course. Treat him like a diseased one. Convince him that his situation is hopeless. _Hate_ him so that he questions his self-worth. Yes, I can see how doing all that could keep him safe.”

“You don’t _understand_!” Ellana barked. “U’Din couldn’t have been trusted with his own magic back then! He was a danger to everyone and _himself_ , and it was for his own good, being kept away!”

“Of course you would think that way,” Solas retorted offhandedly, ignoring the way she seethed at him. “After all, because he was _dangerous_ , he couldn’t be trusted with duties beyond that of a Second. If he had been given more freedom, however, I have no doubt that he would have been named First instead.”

Ellana went rigid. Then, slowly, _dangerously_ : “ _What_ did you say?”

“Ah, forgive me, did I touch a nerve?” The smile on the older elf’s face was cruel in its mockery of an apology. Ellana wanted to rip it right out of his face. “Surely you must be aware of how powerful your clansman is, First Lavellan. Why wouldn’t you be? You grew up with him, so I’m sure you’ve borne witness to his magical prowess. ”

“Magical... Magical _prowess_?” she began quietly, pausing before exploding, “ _U’Din_? That wimp who can’t even face a horde of undead without shitting himself? The one who can’t even control his temper and sets _everything_ on fire? _That_ U’Din?!”

“Of course you would focus on his flaws instead of his strengths. I can imagine it makes it easier to prevent any competition.”

“That’s bullshit!” Ellana practically shrieked, clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “He’s just the _Second_. He’s nothing special. He _isn’t_!”

“Ah, so you say, yet your Keeper seems to favor him, doesn’t she? With her practically ignoring you earlier when you screamed injustice. That favoritism is usually reserved for the First, is it not?”

Ellana recoiled, her face falling briefly. The rage came back full-force as she got up in his face. “The only reason he gets special treatment from the Keeper is because he’s _dying_. That has nothing to do with him being better than me or—or him being special! It’s just _pity_. Pity, I say! And why would she risk antagonizing him? Do you know how many times that temper of his got people hurt? Got _himself_ hurt? Two of his wounds were from his own stupidity! What a dumbass! And it’s so fucking _stupid_ that he’s only the Second because of that destiny crap! The Keeper is insane, she _must_ be!

“But you know what? I don’t care. _I_ deserve to be the First because _I_ care about the clan! _I’m_ not the one out there gallivanting and pretending to be a hero! _I’m_ not the one having delusions of grandeur and ignoring my duty because _I’m_ here preparing to take over the clan! Me! But does anyone appreciate that? No. Not even the Keeper. Nobody!

“And you know what else is _hilarious_? I’m the First, but that actually means I have to pick up U’Din’s shit wherever he goes. And that includes marching across the continent to bring him back and making that stupid salve of his! I swear, if that _poison_ wasn’t helping him, I’d happily shove it all down his throat and—“

“ **Ellana**!”

The First ceased her rant and froze. She blinked back to reality and turned to see Solas, (who had switched from stunned to frustrated when she stopped screaming at him), openly glaring behind her. Very reluctantly, she turned around to see a very _livid_ Keeper stomping towards them.

It was in that moment when she realized what she had done (and _almost_ done).

“What’s this, then? Are you _still_ throwing a tantrum?” The Keeper stopped right in front of them, briefly glancing in Solas’ direction before turning back to stare disapprovingly at her. “We just burned our dead, Ellana, and you are here screaming during a time of quiet mourning. And talking ill of your own clansman! For shame, da’len. I expected much more from you, my First.”

“But Keeper—“

“ _Hush_ , da’len. I have nothing more to say to you. If you cannot control yourself, you may as well retire early. We have suffered a great loss today, and your foul behavior will just agitate everyone else.”

“Keeper, I’m so _sorry_ —“

“No, da’len. _I’m_ sorry.” The sharpness of her words cut Ellana deep, and Deshanna dismissed her First with a wave of her hand. “Go to your tent, Ellana. I shall speak with our guest here. And I do mean _now_.”

The Keeper left no room for more argument, and the First had no choice but to give a shallow bow and respect her wishes. She slowly trudged away, but not before sending a scathing glare over her shoulder. It was that hedge mage’s fault. _He_ was the one who started it, mocking her clan’s protection of U’Din and even implying that she didn’t deserve to be the First! And he was such a sadist, hungrily drinking the words that spilled out of Ellana’s mouth. Why, if she knew any better, she would say that he did that on _purpose_ —

She stopped in her tracks. After a long pause, she reached in her pocket and fished out the enchanted feather that the Keeper gave her. She remembered the eerie, suspicious glow it emitted when Solas came out of the forest, and now she realized what the hedge mage had been looking for all along.

And Ellana, fool that she was, had almost handed it right to him.

 

* * *

 

Solas wanted to scream. He had been this close— _this close!_ —to finally getting real answers! His search had bore no fruit, save for discovering a small, deserted village that seemed to have been occupied by a necromancer until recently. It proved useless, in the end, so Solas had returned to the camp feeling frustrated. Interrupting the hunter and U’Din’s conversation had given him a brief reprieve, but he still wished he had found _something_.

But then, oh but _then_ , the First had given him an entirely different avenue to explore, a field _ripe_ for the picking! And it had been so hilariously easy, goading Ellana to get her to talk. Solas couldn’t help but relish in that moment when answers just poured out of her mouth like a fountain of spring water, and he just realized then just how thirsty he had been for information.

But then _she_ came along to ruin everything. She ruined _everything_!

“I do apologize for my First’s behavior. She’s not usually so hot-headed, but given today’s events, I’m sure it’s the stress. Please do not take it personally.”

Solas nodded easily enough. “Ah, I understand. I must apologize, myself; clearly I had said something to set her off, but I was simply looking out for the well-being of the Inquisitor.”

“Oh, so it’s about U’Din? Really, those two used to be such good friends. I wonder where I went wrong with her.” Deshanna lamented, her sad words not matching the stern look in her eyes. She tutted. “But today’s events have affected her greatly; I’m sure she feels devastated, being away when the attack happened. I fear that she blames herself for not being here to defend the clan.”

“That’s not very surprising. A good First would want to protect their clansmen. Seconds would too, but in this case, your Second is also the Inquisitor.”

“And that is also unfortunate. U’Din is just as mournful, if not more so since he blames himself for what happened, as he is wont to do for incidents like this. I remember him causing an entire patch of medicinal plants to decay when one of the sick elders had died in his care. He was inconsolable and wouldn’t eat properly for a week. It took an apprenticeship under Alayna to cheer him up.”

Solas smiled despite himself. Yes, that sounded a lot like U’Din. He was the type to mourn even for the deaths of his own enemies, and it took a very compassionate soul to be capable of such. “It was a good decision. His skill in smithing had given us quite the advantage in the field.”

“It had been useful for us as well. There are a lot of ore deposits here in the mountains, and U’Din takes advantage of that by making great weapons for the hunters. He is very skilled in that craft—very skilled in general, which makes it all the more tragic, with him losing his left arm. Yet another thing to mourn for this day.”

Solas considered that. Perhaps U’Din’s skill in crafting was just honed earlier on, and not innate as he had first thought. He didn’t know enough to form conclusions, but it was still impressive. He wondered.

“You seem to hone many talents in your protégés, Keeper Deshanna. Did your First also apprentice in crafting?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. The two of them had started falling out at that point, and she was adamant not to study alongside him. I taught her herbalism and healing, as well as how to read and write Elvish.”

“Which you also taught the Inquisitor, since he himself is a healer.”

“Yes, but admittedly not as extensively. U’Din had a good grasp on those very early on, and I decided to let him hone his skills by himself. It allowed me to focus on Ellana without regrets, after all.”

Solas paused to dwell on that. In a way, one could interpret that to mean that U’Din had been a prodigy who needed no assistance in honing his magic. But any responsible Keeper would still have to supervise young mages, regardless of how talented they are. If anything, they would need more constant supervision, since their strong, but wild magic tended to attract demons more often. However, U’Din had never mentioned any specific traumas regarding demons (the incident with the Envy demon didn’t count), so did that mean U’Din never had trouble with his magic at all?

And he didn’t forget the last part, either. The Keeper focused on Ellana. Without _regrets._ That was telling.

“It seems that U’Din is the more talented mage of the two.” Solas began carefully, seeing if he can wheedle information out of Keeper, too. “If he could be left alone to study by himself, that’s a sign of great magical ability, if not tremendous self-discipline.”

Deshanna smiled and wagged a finger. “Ah, I would never pick a favorite between my two mages, friend. It’s like choosing between your own children. Though if you want an unbiased opinion, then yes, I can definitely say that U’Din is more powerful. He’d outlast Ellana on stamina alone, that’s for sure.”

“And yet he is the Second?” Solas hoped he sounded as nonchalant as he aimed to be.

“Great power does not a First make, friend. There were several factors in deciding which of them would be First. U’Din was not ready for such a role, and honestly, I never thought he would be. So imagine everyone’s surprise when he became Inquisitor.”

“I wonder if you regret it now. U’Din has shown good leadership skills, and he has a mind for tactics. Your clan would have benefitted from him being the First. Or any other clan, for that matter. But I heard you stopped bringing him to Arlathvhen.”

“Perhaps.” Deshanna agreed easily enough, and a small smirk graced her features briefly before it became a kindly smile. “Alas, we will never know. Some things just aren’t meant to happen, and some things just _do_.”

“Like U’Din going in your First’s stead to the Conclave and becoming Inquisitor.”

“Yes, and you lurking about and fishing information from my First. Funny how that works, doesn’t it, friend?”

Solas froze. He did his best to mask his shock, though perhaps some of it still showed on his face. Deshanna had turned to him, all smiles, but something _dangerous_ lurked behind those dark eyes. Eyes that turned a strange yellow color for the briefest moment, but that could have been the trick of the light from the bonfire.

But Solas remembered there had been no fire in the Keeper’s tent, and he _knew_ he saw something in there.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Keeper Deshanna. I’ve already explained to your First that I was scouting the perimeter for danger to the Inquisitor’s person. Definitely not lurking about.”

“Ah, but you and I both know that you _do_ have an idea! And obviously, you lied to my First.” Deshanna shot down his alibi so quickly and so pleasantly that it almost caught Solas visibly unbalanced. Almost. “Please do not insult my intelligence. I know a man on a quest for the truth when I see it.”

He resisted the urge to sneer. “You seem to know a great deal about it all, Keeper Deshanna.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve seen many things in my old age, you know.” She laughed good-naturedly, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere around them. With another smile she inclined her head at him. “I cannot do anything about the information you’ve managed to steal from my First, and I doubt my Second will appreciate me threatening his favorite ally in the Inquisition. So I will let it slide. For now. But tread lightly, my friend. There are things better left to fester in the dark. It makes the eventual reveal far less... _overwhelming_.”

Deshanna smiled pleasantly at him and inclined her head again, signaling her leave. She had taken a few steps when Solas called out, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait!” Solas began. When the Keeper made no move to ignore him, he pressed on, “If you would... satisfy my curiosity, Keeper Deshanna, your First mentioned something about _destiny_. Were you referring to that?”

At first, the old woman said nothing. But she let out a laugh that seemed stuck in her throat, making it sound deeper and more ominous. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

The Keeper went on her way, leaving a very disgruntled Solas left to mull over her words. He stared at the dying bonfire for a moment before shaking his head, quickly going over the information he’s acquired so far.

U’Din had been, most likely, meant to be the First. Or at least, he had been perfectly qualified for it, but somehow he had been ignored in favor of Ellana. The old woman claimed that he simply hadn’t been ready for the role, and thus overlooked, but the First’s violent reaction to the suggestion that he _should_ have landed the role made him think that was not the case.

The salve was definitely _not_ a normal salve, and it was in fact poisonous. He recalled that moment in Haven when he had quickly applied salve to the Inquisitor’s burnt leg, and he had suffered severe rashes on his hand. He would have been alarmed if he had not suspected it from the very beginning. He was very much anxious to get back to Skyhold and see what Dorian had been able to discover, and if his suspicions were right, he’d need the Tevinter’s expertise.

Finally, the most important info of all: U’Din was _destined_ for something. Solas would have normally snorted at the thought (because destiny? What romantic nonsense!), but he had lived long enough to know that _anything_ was possible, and that things weren’t always what they seemed. He was living proof of that, after all. To have it applied to U’Din, however, it made him think. Was his role as Inquisitor foretold somehow? Or had it been orchestrated by something? Some _one_? If so, whatever for?

So many answers, yet now he’s left even with more questions. But that was quite all right, because for the first time in a long while, Solas had a goal that wasn’t about reclaiming the World for the people he had forsaken. He had something to look forward to, for once, because if U’Din was who, or _what_ , he thought he was, then perhaps...

_Hoot, hoot._

Solas’ ears twitched, and he looked up just in time to see Shivehn perch on a branch on a nearby tree. The owl groomed its feathers briefly before lifting its head to stare at him. And as if it can read the elf’s intentions, it glared at him and gave a sharp _hoot_ before retreating to the skies, gliding over to a tree nearer the crowd gathered around a smaller fire.

The Remembering. He almost forgot. And wasn’t that just funny?

But Solas is all right with funny. In fact, despite the Keeper’s unwanted interruption, he was feeling quite light and hopeful. His mood had vastly improved, and what better way to end such an eventful night than a bedtime story?

 

* * *

 

U’Din sighed. He wondered if leaving Solas with Ellana had been a good idea. It was doubtful that the older elf would stick around, but his former friend might try to antagonize him. She was wary of strangers, and he knew this because they bonded over it in the past.

And now she was a complete _bitch_ to him, and he still had no clear idea _why_. Her outburst earlier had given him an inkling, but it couldn’t _really_ be jealousy, could it? What did _he_ have that she would covet so?

_‘Another secret that they’re keeping from me, no doubt. Figures,’_ he thought bitterly.

He approached the group seated around the fire, and he plastered on a smile as the elder currently in charge of story-telling paused to welcome him. Half of the children started demanding a story from _him_ next, and the other half gasped about his hair. Chuckling, he ignored the comment about his hair and promised he would finish his tale before they went to bed.

“You can take over now, if you want,” the kind elder offered, smiling. “I was just telling them the story of the dead crossing the Veil for their eternal rest. It’s definitely one they’ve already heard before, and it’s always wonderful to listen to your stories.”

“They’re not mine, hahren Lenas. I just read them from my father’s journals,” he corrected with a smile of his own. “I’ll wait for my turn. And the children can wait, too.”

“But we’ve been waiting for _ages_ ,” one of the children whined, pouting up at him from the grass. “And we’re tired of the story of Falon’Din and the deer! I’ve already memorized it and _everything_.”

“ _Da’len_ ,” hahren Lenas admonished. “We do not speak ill of the gods.”

“Oh, but brother U’Din’s stories are _much_ more interesting!”

“Still, you should show more respect. U’Din never complained about the gods when _he_ was young, you know. And he definitely respected Falon’Din earlier, when he said those rites.”

“In any case, hahren, I’m just going to wait over there.” U’Din pointed to the side, uncomfortable with the topic. “I’m sorry for interrupting you, so please continue your tale.”

“Ah, da’len, you’re as polite as ever. I hope the children grow up to be just like you,” he said, chortling when the children groaned. He tapped a wrinkly finger on his chin. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, _well_ —“

U’Din left, shaking his head. If the children were lucky, they’d be as different from him as possible. Granted, he was responsible for feats that no person had ever done before (to their knowledge, anyway), but that didn’t necessarily qualified him to become an idol or role model.

He shuddered when he remembered that some people practically worshipped him for being the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisitor. The attention creeped him out. It was so _unsettling_.

Lost in his musings, he bumped into a pair of kids walking towards the campfire, and he smiled down at them and said, “Hello, Sevan, Rena. You both okay?”

“Hello, brother U’Din. We’re okay,” the girl named Rena replied, glancing to the boy on her right. “I just accompanied my brother. He needed to pee.”

“Rena!” The boy blushed, elbowing her. He looked petulantly up at U’Din. “It’s just dark, and she can scream really loud, so the entire camp will hear her if we see danger.”

“Not true!” She stuck out her tongue, and U’Din smiled dotingly as they exchanged a few swats. The girl gasped and looked up at him with bright eyes. “Oh, brother U’Din, are you going to continue your story? I want to know what happens next!”

“Oh, yeah! They finally found somewhere they can sleep without getting attacked, right?” Sevan’s brown eyes shined bright as he bounced on his toes.

“Right! The enemies kept finding them because they’re so tired and weak. And one of them was injured, too, so I’m so scared that it would be too late for her!”

“Nah, don’t think that! _He_ would never let that happen. He said so himself, didn’t he? We got to believe in him.”

“Yeah, I know he’ll figure something out. He has to. He _always_ does.”

U’Din, who had been initially charmed by their bubbly banter, frowned as he became more confused as they rambled on. Now that he thought about it, he remembered telling them a story, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember exactly _what_ it had been about.

That was... _odd_. Very odd.

“I wonder what’s going to happen next, though. It’s good that they found that tower, but why was it abandoned?” Sevan jutted out his bottom lip as he thought. He looked up at U’Din searchingly. “Brother U’Din, was that tower really abandoned, or is it some kind of trap? Or— _wait_ , maybe it has demons in it!”

Rena gasped almost comically, and U’Din would have laughed if he hadn’t been so confused. “ _No_. That can’t be! _Shivehn_ wouldn’t lead them into danger. Would he?”

U’Din blinked. _What_?

“Of course not! Don’t be silly. But, I dunno, I’ve thought about it a lot since brother U’Din left, and maybe—“

“Wait, hang on,” U’Din interjected, looking slightly manic. He swallowed before asking, “Who... What are you on about? _Shivehn_? Where... did you hear that name?”

The boy blinked before narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Shivehn. The hero. You tell us stories about him and his friends _all_ the time. Like last time. Did you forget?”

“Nah, brother U’Din’s just joking.” Rena laughed, eyes crinkling in delight. “He wouldn’t forget something like _that_. He’s been telling us stories about Shivehn for _years_.”

The Inquisitor paused, and he stared at the ground in shock. He shook his head. “I—“

“Oh, Sevi, Mamae might be looking for us. We should head back now,” the girl announced, grabbing the boy’s hand and dragging him away. She waved over her shoulder as she passed by the former Second, ignorant of the dread building inside him. “See you later, brother U’Din!”

“Yeah, see you!”

With his mouth hanging slightly open, he watched the two kids rejoin the circle listening to hahren Lenas. He shook himself out of his stupor and sprinted to the Keeper’s tent. He went inside and his wild eyes searched frantically before zoning in on the satchel lying innocently near his gear.

He grabbed it and checked its contents, throwing over his shoulder several vials of potions, bandages and other useless, unwanted things. He went as far as to flip it upside down and shake it, but nothing more came out. Swearing, he threw it angrily to the side, sitting down and clutching at his head.

The journals. They weren’t here. He didn’t bring them with him. _Solas_ had kept his satchel for a while, and he had given the bag back to him with nothing in it. He hadn’t minded, because he didn’t think he’d need them.

But he did. He _did_. U’Din needed them, but they weren’t _here_.

_‘I have to know. I have to check,’_ he thought to himself frantically. _‘I have to_ remember _.’_

He sat on the ground for a moment, stumped and on the verge of panic, before perking up when he saw a stack of bound journals near him. The ones that the Keeper gifted to him.

Like lightning, his hand shot out and he grabbed the first one on the pile. He stared reverently at the soft, leather cover before opening it.

Blank. The journal was blank.

He resisted the urge to throw it across the tent and placed it down gently. He took a deep breath—focus, he had to _focus_. There was nothing to gain from losing his temper, he reminded himself. And honestly, he had no right to be angry. He knew that _all_ of these journals were blank, except for the one the Keeper had—

U’Din paused. He went back to the journals and searched through them thoroughly, and almost shouted when he found the journal that had that _one_ entry. He didn’t get a chance to read it when he first saw it appear on the page, but now he was determined to do just that.

Almost giddily, he read the first line, but then he was suddenly blinded by a harsh, white light. He dropped it in shock, and he stood up to shield his eyes. He felt the light envelope him for a few moments, warm and bright, before vanishing in an instant. Slowly, U’Din took his hand off his face and blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness.

When he turned and looked up, he gasped. Right in front of him was a large, crystal tree.

 

* * *

 

“ _Forget._ ”

Cole waved his hands in front of a dazed-looking elf’s face, and she wordlessly stood up and left him. He watched as she joined her friends and broke down, dismantling all the walls she had constructed to block the pain.

But walls don’t just block pain. Sometimes, they keep them in. Cage them. Locked away, key thrown, and the pain could do nothing but scream for mercy and _please, is anybody out there?_

He hissed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Feelings, so foreign to him yet so _familiar_. Faint and fading, yet full and fierce.

It was hurt. He knew it was. But _whose_ hurt was it?

A weight landed on his head, and he didn’t have to look up to see who it was. Sighing, he sat on one of the makeshift chairs and fumbled with the hem of his shirt. A soft croon filled his ears, and he smiled.

“I’m okay. Tired, but okay,” he spoke, pausing for a moment before adding, “It’s just like back at Skyhold. Lots of hurt soldiers. Hurt scouts. Hurt _people_. It’s like that, only more elves. And _just_ elves.”

The owl crooned again, and he hopped down to the spirit’s shoulder. Its dark eyes searched him, and Cole calmly stared back with his own stare.

“What are you thinking about?” the spirit asked, tilting his head slightly. The owl’s tail twitched, and Cole had to suppress a smile. “Solas again? But he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s not hurting anyone. I would know.”

Shivehn chirped a few times, and Cole listened intently as the owl ranted. He nodded at the appropriate times, and he even reached out to smoothen some of the feathers that had gotten fuzzy as he flailed his wings.

Cole shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you don’t want him to know. I _really_ think he can help. Since you won’t let me.”

The owl seemed to sadden at that, and it crooned softly as he bopped his head against Cole’s cheek. The spirit sighed and patted the owl gently to let him know that he didn’t take it personally.

It hurt, though. U’Din had the biggest hurt of all, and it cried out for Cole every time he was near him. His nature _demanded_ that he do something, but he knew it wasn’t his pain to heal. Just like Solas’ wasn’t.

He breathed in deeply and shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. His breath formed a cool mist in front of him, and he hunched over and buried his face.

Those two are so cold. They make Cole feel _so cold_.

Shivehn suddenly gave a high-pitched chirp, pulling a despairing Cole out of his thoughts. The two of them turned to the Keeper’s tent, seemingly innocent-looking, but they both knew what was happening inside.

He looked up as Shivehn hovered above his head. “Is it starting?”

The owl gave him a sad look before nodding and flying towards the tent. Cole stood silent for a moment before jogging after his feathered friend.

_‘The babe has left the cradle,’_ he sang a soft, melodic tune in his head. _‘And crawls slowly to the casket.’_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, have you two seen Sparkler around, by any chance?”

Iron Bull and Blackwall paused their little spar and faced the dwarf. They exchanged a brief look before shrugging.

“You mean Dorian? No, I can’t say that I have,” the Grey Warden replied, and he seemed like he was resisting the urge to scoff. “But he might be at the library. Doing who-knows-what.”

“I saw him last night,” the qunari answered, looking the most speculative that Varric had seen him. But the brawny warrior was a spy, so he probably speculated _all_ the time. “Caught him by surprise. He seemed to be distracted by something, though I have no idea what it could be.”

“You sure you weren’t near a mirror?” Blackwall snickered before turning to Varric. “Why are you looking for him, anyway? Lost another bet with you, did he?”

“Not recently. He owes me a few sovereigns, though, and I’m planning on purchasing a few upgrades for Bianca, so I thought, hey, why not cash in on that bet? Willow made the last upgrade for me, but with the way things are now...”

“I see,” the warrior commented, looking pensive. It was always sad to remember that the Inquisitor would never be able to craft like he used to ever again, and not because they lost a free supply of equipment.

“You should wait for him to come back before making your purchase,” Iron Bull said, tapping the practice sword on the back of his shoulder. “I’m sure he has ideas for upgrades, even if he can’t make them himself. It would make him happy, trust me.”

“Yeah? I’ll do that, then. Maker knows the poor guy deserves as much happiness as he could get.” Varric chuckled. He gave a little salute as he walked off, and he listened to the satisfying thwacks and grunts as the two continued their spar.

The dwarf walked all the way up to the keep, and he greeted the Inquisition scouts and soldiers he passed by. In the main hall, a few Orlesian nobles spotted him and practically _announced_ his arrival, and he made a quick retreat to the rotunda before they could try to schmooze an autograph or something. The quietness of their favorite hedge mage’s haunt calmed him somewhat, and he looked at the frescos decorating the walls.

He whistled. He spotted Solas working on them occasionally, and he had to admit, the elf had a talent. Noticing a theme for each one, he snickered.

Solas seemed to have a one-track mind, too. All of the frescos so far were about what the Inquisitor has done so far.

Taking a mental note to grill the hedge mage when he came back, Varric walked all the way up the staircase leading to the library loft. Turning the corner, he grinned when he saw Dorian hunched over a desk, seemingly unaware of everything going on around him.

Feeling a little cheeky, he crept behind the mage and greeted, loudly, “Hey, Sparkler!”

The Tevinter gasped, and papers flew around him as he jumped out of the chair. Varric made the wise decision to leap to the side before he could be a casualty, like the poor chair lying on the ground. He bowed his head and mourned its passing. To be saddled with cradling the mage’s ass all day would make it desperate for freedom.

He was about to voice this to the mage, but the tired, slightly disheveled look on Dorian’s face made him pause, before trading his grin for a frown. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Hey, you all right, Sparkler? You look _kinda_ shitty.”

“Kind of? I was aiming for full-blown shitty. I must be losing my touch,” the mage joked, voice airy as usual, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “You do realize that Dorian Pavus does _not_ fail to deliver. I may have to kill you to guarantee your silence, Varric. Sorry about that.”

“Ah, figures. Knew you Tevinters were nothing but trouble, but did I listen to myself? No, because I don’t listen to anyone, not even to myself,” Varric bemoaned, even going as far as to scratch the back of his head in mock disappointment.

“Oh, I suppose I can let you off the hook. _This_ time.” Dorian waved a hand idly, though he ended up spelling a book to fly out of the shelf. He groaned and picked it up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s the _third_ time today. I really _must_ be losing my touch.”

“Hey, you all right?” Varric dropped the act and showed the concern on his face. “You don’t look too good, and that’s already a bad sign, considering that you wake up hours before everyone else to make sure your hair is curled the right way.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been neglecting my looks lately.” Dorian put back the book on the shelf. He squinted at it before taking it out again, placing it instead on top of the desk he shoved in his little nook.

“What? You, neglect your _looks_? Maker’s breath, maybe the World _is_ ending. Someone check on the Inquisitor!”

It was meant to be a joke—a poorly-made one, but still a joke. Varric certainly didn’t expect Dorian to wince when he made it, though, and he knew for a fact that it wasn’t because he said that the World was ending.

“What are you working on, anyway?” he asked, standing on his tiptoes to see what the mage was blocking. Or hiding. “It must be important, if you’re sacrificing your beauty rest for it.”

“There are things that are more important than my _vanity_ , Varric,” Dorian bit out rather testily, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to snap. This is just very... _sensitive_ research, and I’m afraid I can’t stop while I’m close to finishing it. Maybe.”

“Research? About Corypheus?” Varric raised a brow. He remembered the advisors asking Dorian to research him. Something about his real name or identity.

“Oh, that one? I need the Liberalum tome to get further on that assignment. Fortunately, the Inquisition isn’t lacking in wealth, and the Grand Archivist was more than happy to send a copy. It will be arriving tomorrow. Or today. I forgot when, exactly. I don’t even remember when Josephine told me. An hour ago? Hm.”

“Then what _are_ you researching?” Varric asked, though it didn’t take time for him to put two and two together. The pinched look on Dorian’s face, his reaction to Varric’s joke, and the mere fact that he was just _that_ amazing at picking things up led him to the answer. “It’s about Willow, isn’t it?”

Dorian sighed and rubbed his temples. “I cannot say. Like I said, this is _very_ sensitive research, and I would appreciate it if you kept quiet about it for now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why are you keeping this a secret? It’s about his _sickness_ , isn’t it? The one that’s preventing him from healing?”

“Varric, I really can’t say. _Please_ drop it for now,” the mage implored tiredly as he went back to the piles of papers he had spelled to reorganize themselves. “But yes, you’re right, it _is_ about the Inquisitor and his sickness. I’m keeping quiet about it for now because this is all just theory, and I can’t have the entire Inquisition panicking because of a _theory_.”

The dwarf considered that for a moment before sighing. He shook his head, looking displeased. “Well, I know you like Willow, so I don’t think you’re trying to secretly murder him or anything. But you have to tell the advisors what you find. Whatever it is. Cassandra would have your head if she finds out you’ve been keeping something important like this behind their backs.”

“Believe me, I _know_.” Dorian sounded unperturbed, but it was hardly convincing, due to the exhausted wavering of his voice. He sighed and said, “I am sorry, Varric. I promise I’ll reveal everything eventually. But I have to be completely _sure_ this research is leading me to the truth.”

Eventually, not soon. Varric would have argued with that, but the Tevinter looked like he needed space. Nodding reluctantly, Varric said, “Fine. But whatever’s going on with Willow, _I_ wanna know what it is, all right?”

“You have my word,” Dorian promised.

“Good. By the way, you owe me a few sovereigns. Don’t forget.” Varric observed him for a few moments before walking to the stairwell. He paused before he could get any farther, and he quickly walked back to Dorian’s side.

Whispering as quietly as he could, he asked, “But between you and me, how bad _is_ it?”

“Bad.” Dorian looked grave, and Varric realized how dire the situation must be if the mage would willingly reach up to mess up his own _hair_. “And if my research proves true? Then it’s very bad. _Very_ bad, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? It's shorter than usual, but it has enough answers for you guys to munch on and stew over while I figure out how to move the plot along, I bet. HAHAHA. But nah, for real, we move out of Lavellan clan next chapter. I was gonna squeeze it here, but it would upset the tone of this chapter. And U'Din's strange experience will feature next chapter too, so look forward to that! Thanks for taking the time to read, comment and leave kudos, as always <3
> 
> \--
> 
> Also, two announcements:
> 
> 1\. I'm going to rewrite the first few chapters to make them less resemble the game and more like a different set of events altogether. That is, I'm not going to change a LOT, probably just make scenes play out a bit differently. Some of you may have noticed that I already kinda started doing that, but this time I'm considering doing it more thoroughly. Rereading _might_ be necessary, depending on how much I rewrite, but I definitely will try to prevent that. I'll let you all know if you should, but if you've been reading since the beginning, I don't think you need to.  
>  2\. We are approaching the end of the first arc, though I'm unsure if I'm going to include the second arc here, or split this into two so it won't be super long. What are your thoughts? The decision will be mine, in the end, but I'm curious to know what you guys feel about that? 
> 
> That's it, but as a bonus note: OMG HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN ON DA YOOTOOB AND SEARCHED FOR DA4 NEWS??? I SAW A FEW VIDEOS POSTED RECENTLY AND I'M SHOOKT I CAN'T WAIT BUT I'M AFRAID TOO


	36. The Crumbling Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Rikka here. I'm posting this in Yamira's (Prodigal-san) stead. She's currently recuperating from surgery, and I've had the privilege of being in her presence while she was tripped out from the drugs. The things I've heard. Cannot unhear. Now I have a beautiful collection of blackmail material to use for (many, many) rainy days. :’) 
> 
> Anyway, you will all be pleased to note that there are a lot of things revealed here. I can imagine this will last you guys quite a bit.
> 
> Admittedly, this wasn't proofread as thoroughly as usual, but I'll return to it and correct any mistakes. I'm in the middle of thesis, so I sadly cannot spend too much time on this. This is only being uploaded because Yamira cried about it yesterday.
> 
> I've also taken it upon myself to adjust the number of chapters for this story because, let's face it: 75 _is_ being stingy. Stop deluding yourself, Yamira bes. You're going to be writing for a loooooong time. :)
> 
> —
> 
>  
> 
> ~~FUCK YOU RIKKA WHAT THE HELL~~
> 
>  
> 
> Hey, guys! Yamira here. Doing much better, though I’m still bedridden. I’m at home now (because I ain’t paying any more hospital fees the fak), so I can reply to comments soon! :3 Hope you enjoy this update!

“Asleep?” Cassandra asked, perplexed. Cole nodded, and when it was clear that he wasn’t going to elaborate without prompting, she added, “that’s quite... unexpected. I thought he was tasked to do something for his clan tonight.”

“Read to the children, yes. But he ended up reading _himself_ to sleep,” the spirit supplied, scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground. “They’re sad, but they understand. Deshanna told them to understand, so they will. They always do what she says.”

“That isn’t like him. He wouldn’t willingly disappoint anyone, especially children,” Solas began, furrowing his brows suspiciously. “But perhaps he _is_ exhausted. Today has been trying for everyone, and I’m sure the stress has finally caught up to the Inquisitor.”

“Exhausted!” Cassandra echoed, her voice raised a pitch higher. She turned to Cole, “Did you check if he was ailing? Feverish? He’s sickly enough as it is, and if he’s—“

“He’s sleeping like a babe,” Cole interjected softly, looking a little dazed again. “He’s safe in his cradle for now, crumbling though it is. But I wouldn’t worry.”

“Cole, this is _not_ the time to speak in riddles!”

“He’s not in danger. He’s in good hands.”

“Whose hands? Do you mean the Keeper?”

“Yes. Shivehn, too.”

“Shivehn? You mean that barmy bird?” Sera joined the conversation, slumping back against the piled sacks in the tent. “I dunno why Droopy keeps that thing around. All it does is make noises and follow us around. And it stares at you all eerie-like. Like it _knows_ everything about you. Huh. The bird’s just like Creepy.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Cassandra cut in, glaring in Sera’s direction. She turned back to Cole. “So he’s all right, then? The Inquisitor?”

The spirit hummed an affirmative and walked past them, pointedly not looking at Solas who had a slight suspicious expression on his face. He sat down by the mouth of the tent, looking up at the dark, starry sky. His gaze was transfixed on a single spot, though the vacancy in his eyes showed that his mind was traveling through the stars, as it was wont to do.

After observing him for a few moments, Solas turned to the Seeker. “If Cole insists that he is safe, then I believe there’s nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t wish ill upon the Inquisitor.”

“I’m not saying that he does,” she argued weakly, looking unconvinced still. Unsure what else to do, Cassandra turned to their resident archer. “Sera, what do you think?”

“Me? You wanna know what I think about what the thing says?”

“His name is _Cole_ , Sera. And he is not a thing.”

“I’ll call Creepy whatever I want,” she said defiantly, leaning back against the cushiony sacks. She spared the spirit a glance before saying, “But I guess Solas is right. It likes Droopy, so I suppose it wouldn’t want him hurt. If Droopy’s resting, then we should probably leave him alone.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “You wish to leave the Inquisitor alone? That’s quite unlike you.”

“Yeah, well.” Sera crossed her arms on her chest. “Kind-of did something a while ago, and even though the tit deserved it, I don’t want to push my luck, yeah? ‘Sides, he hasn’t been sleeping all that well lately. I can tell.”

“That’s probably the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Sera.” Solas smirked, nonplussed by the sneer the younger elf threw his way. “To think you’re observant enough to notice the bad dreams. Impressive.”

“Piss on a rope, old man.” She stuck his tongue out and turned her back to him, effectively ending their brief conversation.

“Bad dreams?” Cassandra turned to him, alarmed.

“Our Inquisitor faces more than just a physical illness, it seems. Though I’d like to think that it’s due to stress than anything severe, since it has no effect on his productivity. I would have noticed if other forces were at work. _Cole_ would have noticed.” Solas quickly reassured, glancing at the spirit’s back.

The Seeker scowled, still concerned. “I suppose...”

“Everyone has bad dreams. I wouldn’t worry too much, Cassandra. It’s nothing our Inquisitor can’t handle.” Solas smiled.

Cassandra sighed and shook her head, muttering about blasé allies and being the only one _truly_ concerned about U’Din’s wellbeing. Instead of taking offense, Solas just kept his gaze on the quiet spirit who still wouldn’t look at him. The hedge mage narrowed his eyes.

While he was still in a pretty good mood from the progress he made today, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something a bit off about this. It wasn’t like U’Din to shirk off his duties, after all. The dreams were nothing new, but now that he thought about it...

 _‘Do you dream of Elvhenan, U’Din?’_ he asked, recalling the day they both fell in the Fade and woke up in a city Solas had long accepted to have been destroyed. Solas himself had been there to see the wretched coliseum consumed in flames.

Which reminded him: why in the _World_ did U’Din bring them both _there_ , of all places? Had he been an ally of _his_? Or had he been an unfortunate victim, like so many others? Solas needed to know, but did he have enough time? After all—

_“He’ll die long before his next birthday, we think.”_

He shook his head, a little reproachful of himself. _Don’t be stupid_. That could mean anything, and it was merely a speculation. He was confident that Dorian had already confirmed his theory, and with their combined efforts, they would be able to keep the Inquisitor alive. And not just so that he could finish off Corypheus.

At least, not anymore.

Solas smiled softly, shaking his head. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect to treat U’Din as more than a pawn; a stepping stone to take back what was rightfully his and redeem himself in the eyes of his fallen people. But the Dalish had proven himself far more valuable than just a life to be sacrificed for the greater good, and Solas vowed to keep him close for as long as possible. Whatever the cost.

 _‘He cannot die. I need him now,’_ he thought almost reverently. He closed his eyes. _‘For the people. For me. I_ need _him.’_

(Cole looked over to him and sighed.)

 

* * *

 

U’Din gaped as he stared up at the large tree. It was big and strange and _shiny_ , though perhaps ‘gleaming’ would be the proper term. Its trunk was smooth, glowing under the light of the two moons. He squinted as he looked further up, realizing that its branches formed a sort-of _cupping_ shape, which seemed oddly fitting since it was directly in front of the moon.

Without meaning to, he raised his hands and copied the action, and he raised them up to cradle the moon. He blinked and gasped, staring down at his hands.

_Hands._

_‘My left arm is back,’_ he thought dazedly, flexing the fingers on his left hand. He wiggled them, frowning in deep thought.

His rapt attention was stolen by a loud breeze, and he looked up to see something white perch on the base of the tree’s branches.

He squinted, unsure what he was seeing since he was staring directly at the moon, but once his vision adjusted, he gaped up at the creature staring down at him.

“Shivehn?”

The snowy owl hooted, sounding strangely pleased. The owl swooped down to land on his head, and he absently reached up to stroke its feathers.

So. Shivehn was here. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Hello there,” he greeted finally, smiling at the resounding chirp. He looked around the dark plaza and then down at himself. “So, you’re here, too. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

The owl jumped down on his shoulder, and he lifted his arm so it could walk backwards along his forearm. They stared at each other for a moment, unblinking, before U’Din relented and gave him a tired smile.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he began, smiling when the owl let out a sad croon. “This isn’t the first time I woke up to find myself in a strange place, dressed in strange clothes. What do I mean? Well. The fact that you’re perched on my left arm should have raised a few flags for you, but you don’t seem completely bothered by it, do you?”

The owl was silent and unblinking. U’Din sighed and tried again.

“Look, you remember that tomb I woke up in before? The one that promised some form of vengeful reckoning?” he paused, feeling nervous when Shivehn just blinked unevenly at him. “Well, I never really forgot about it. Nor about the time I woke up in the Fade near that damn fountain that keeps popping out of nowhere—and look, it’s right over there. Fucking fountain. Anyway, don’t you dare act like you don’t know anything about that incident. I know you do. You know _everything_ about me. Don’t you?

“I was so busy freaking out about everything that I didn’t notice it before, but I got so tired of being confused and upset by everything that I stopped asking “what” and finally started looking for “why’s.” Starting with why the _fuck_ you’re always there when something freaky happens to me.

“So. Go on. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me.” He brings the owl closer till his nose and its beak almost touch, and he stares into its large, dark eyes. “I know you’re not out to hurt me because you’ve been there for me since Haven. But I’m just fucking _tired_ of all the secrets, okay? It’s bad enough I don’t trust my own Keeper anymore. I don’t want to start being paranoid about you too.

“So show me something. _Anything_. Please, Shivehn?” U’Din begged. Then his eyes hardened. “Or should I say, _Big and Noisy_?”

He and Shivehn held their gazes until the owl blinked and turned its head towards the tree. The owl looked like it just sighed—now wasn’t _that_ hilarious?—and turned back to him. It nodded slowly, and it raised its wings to take flight. U’Din watched, entranced, as it made a few loops in the air before swooping down to hit the ground.

Just as he was about to run to catch the crazy bird, he froze in his spot as Shivehn started to _change_. Instead of claws, boots landed gracefully on the ground, and a familiar cloak billowed in the wind. Whatever Shivehn shifted into slowly stood and turned, and U’Din watched with growing horror as a familiar face stared back at him.

It was _his_ face.

“What,” he choked out, taking a few steps back. “The _fuck_?”

Looking amused, Shivehn raised a clawed finger to his lips. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a silverite owl mask, and he placed it easily on his face. U’Din was about to tell him to stop fucking around when he felt something change in the air around them. The sound of footsteps drew near, and U’Din immediately turned to search for the source. Shivehn, however, just sighed, seeming completely unbothered.

“My friend,” he intoned, and U’Din’s jaw dropped at the familiar sound. His voice—that was _his_ voice coming out of Shivehn’s mouth! “You are late.”

A robed figure suddenly materialized in front of them, and U’Din jumped back, unprepared. The newcomer’s dark mask glimmered in the moonlight, letting U’Din know that it was fashioned in the form of an owl—just like Shivehn’s. He glanced at his companion and frowned.

“I apologize,” the masked figure spoke, bowing shallowly. The voice was feminine, deep and melodic, but also somewhat troubled. “I’m afraid I encountered a slight complication before coming here, but it is fixed now.”

“That’s quite all right. I was the one who requested we meet here, after all,” Shivehn spoke, nodding his head in understanding. He turned to stare at the crystal tree before speaking again. “You said you wanted to discuss something with me. What is it?”

“Who is this?” U’Din demanded, glancing between him and the robed woman. “Why are you speaking to her? And why is she acting like she can’t see me? What’s with the damn mask? _Hey_!”

Shivehn shifted slightly in his direction; a silent way of telling him to shut the fuck up. U’Din obeyed, albeit unhappily. He crossed his arms and watched the woman stay silent for several moments. It gave U’Din time to wonder who she was, and why Shivehn was even showing him this.

Then there it was again—a shift in the air around them. It seemed much larger, more pronounced, and U’Din can feel his spine straightening in reflex. The size of the shift was explained when not one, but five other robed figures appeared out of nowhere. Shivehn turned to face the woman again, back straight but shoulders low. U’Din knew what that pose meant, being so intimately used to doing it on a regular basis.

Sadness. Disappointment. _Resignation_.

“So it has come to this,” Shivehn’s voice— _his_ voice, dammit!—was quiet, but in that moment, he might as well had shouted. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting such an entourage. Nor the lack of subtlety. Perhaps in our time working together, you have grown tired of poisoned wine and slitting throats in people’s dreams?”

“I save subtlety for my foes. You, however, are my friend.” The woman took off her hood, showing dark hair neatly braided and tied up into a bun. “You deserve to see Death as it waits for you to welcome its embrace.”

U’Din instantly became wary, but Shivehn didn’t seem worried. He simply cocked his head to the side, as if fascinated. “It is a shame, then, that Death and I are not friends. And you and I won’t be, after tonight.”

“My friend, see _reason_ ,” she begged, and the shift in her demeanor threw U’Din off. Shivehn just listened silently. “You will only succeed in destroying yourself, and those you’ve beguiled into joining your suicide. You must stop this madness at once!”

“Madness?” Shivehn repeated, and his shoulders shook as he silently laughed. U’Din started wondering of whom to be wary now. “You call that madness? What of the grass burning black, or the trees shattering as they fall? What of the rivers turning red, tainted and useless? What of the hordes of innocents running madly into the arms of Death, as if possessed? _That_ , my friend, is true madness, and I refuse to remain in the role of spectator. I refuse to remain an _accomplice_.”

“Then you die, traitor. _You_ run madly into the arms of Death, whose friendship you’ve rejected.” Her declaration was quiet, empty even, and it barely carried over the small space between them. “You will die, whether I take you to Death, or it catches you as you flee.”

The figures vanished in a haze of shadow, appearing instantly behind Shivehn and U’Din. The woman draws out two daggers that gleamed silver. The Inquisitor assumed a defensive position, back-to-back with Shivehn, and he gaped as Shivehn just stood there, staring at the moon.

Well, no wonder he and Cole were friends.

“You idiot! You want to die?” U’Din shrieked, and he shrouded both hands in lightning as the robed figures prepared to attack. “Don’t just stand there! _Do_ something!”

Shivehn tilted his head, gaze not leaving the moon. Then he must have found something funny, because he let out a small huff. He raised his foot and struck the ground, chains of lightning curving to trap him and Shivehn behind a cage that both defended and fought for them.

 _‘Whoa,’_ U’Din thought dumbly, marveling at the size of the cage. Not even he could manage something this large, and with so much _power_. Their attackers tried their best to evade and attack their lightning fortress, but no mercies were given.

Shivehn lifted his left hand and twitched his fingers, and lethal prongs pierced each robed figure. Twisting his hand to face towards him, he balled his fist, and an absurd amount of electric energy shot through each prong, electrocuting their enemies and lighting the dark plaza all at once. Their shrieks of pain were drowned by the shrill screams of electricity, and U’Din covered his ears, overwhelmed by it all.

He found himself crouching when it was all over, and he blinked away the discomfort in his eyes. When he looked up, he gasped, because what was once a beautiful plaza became a ruin of black and smoke. Not even the crystal tree was spared; a part of its trunk and a few branches were shattered and felled. And Shivehn stood in front of it, silent and unruffled.

U’Din walked over to him slowly, trying not to focus too much on the charred remains scattered around them. He watched Shivehn’s now bare face ( _his face_ ), and waited. What for, he didn’t know, but that was what he did.

“I am no friend of Death,” Shivehn said suddenly, and it took U’Din a moment to realize that he was belatedly responding to what that woman had said. He stared at his left hand and smiled wistfully. “I am, however, its willing servant for a time. Or rather, I was. _We_ were.”

U’Din frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Why did you show me that?”

“You wanted me to show you something, did you not?” Shivehn turned to face him, looking slightly amused. “I trust that was a sufficient showing?”

“I could have done without the slaughter,” U’Din responded, glancing back at the charred remains briefly. He shuddered. “But fine, I get it. I’ll be more specific next time. But I get the feeling that there’s more to this than just you showing off. Starting with the reason why you’re currently wearing my _face_.”

“ _Your_ face?” Shivehn raised a brow at him.

U’Din blanched. “Of course “my face”! You’re literally wearing _my face_. Last time I checked, you were a small fluff of feathers that hooted nonstop and hitched rides on my head!”

“That was uncalled for. I can’t help but hoot,” Shivehn sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand to the side and took on a more serious expression. “But you’re right. I did not show you that memory without reason, and I’m really not just an owl.”

“Figured that out the moment you changed into a fucking double of myself,” U’Din groused. Then he paused. “Wait. _Memory_? That was a memory? Whose?”

“Mine. Yours. _Ours_.” Shivehn pursed his lips, sighing. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you and I are stuck here for an indefinite period of time, and I’m not sensing any blinding, bright lights coming to pull us back into consciousness.” The Inquisitor crossed his arms over his chest and gave Shivehn a flat look. “But first things first: _you_. What exactly _are_ you? And is your name really “Shivehn”?”

His double smiled a little, as if amused by some hidden joke. “That’s even more complicated, I’m afraid. And yes, that is my name. One of my names. Our names.”

“What do you mean? How can you have more than one name? And _our_ names? What are you on about?”

Shivehn sighed again and looked away. “I’m afraid it’ll be too much for you to take in.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I am. It will take more than just words to explain everything to you, U’Din, because the answers you seek aren’t just _words_. And giving them all to you at once will do you more harm than good.”

“Why? It’s not like telling me the truth is going to kill me. Right?” When U’Din was met with silence and an eerie gaze, he gulped and took a step back, smiling disbelievingly. “You’re shitting me. It’s not—I’m—oh fuck, is this how I die? Is this the last stage of my sickness? Fuck, that means I need to wake up and get rid of Corypheus _fast_ —”

“No, this is completely unrelated to that. In fact, what you’re suffering from is not actually a sickness, but merely an unfortunate side-effect of what you’ve become. All because you were brought back before either of us were truly ready.”

“ _Huh_?” U’Din vocalized intelligently, earning a flat look from Shivehn. “Side-effect? What I’ve become? _Brought back_? Are you saying what I _think_ you’re saying? You—“

He cut himself off when his vision suddenly split, and Shivehn caught him as he fell forward. His double swore in Elvhen, hoisting him up till he could properly balance himself on his feet. It was weird, touching Shivehn while he was assuming U’Din’s form. He let out a short, hysterical laugh.

Shivehn was a _he_. He knew that shouldn’t be such a big deal but he was starting to panic and everything seemed like such a _huge_ revelation right now. Perhaps later Shivehn will tell him that he was immortal or that Solas was actually a god in disguise, or something.

Wow, he would actually _really_ freak out if either of those were true.

“Shite, it seems I revealed too much too quickly,” Shivehn observed, letting go of him once he made sure that U’Din could stand. “Are you all right?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m all right,” U’Din nodded, eyes watering. He blinked a few times before wiping the tears away. “What just happened?”

“You found out too much too soon. Your current body isn’t built for so much knowledge. It _never_ was.” Shivehn looked frustrated, and his eyes flashed. He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “Now you see what I mean? I can’t just give you the answers, U’Din. They have to come to you, slowly, bit by bit. And only up to a certain point before you and I are ready for _everything_ to fall back in its rightful place.”

“You and I? You mean _you’re_ part of this, too?” U’Din couldn’t help but let a bit of hurt and betrayal slip through his voice.

To his credit, Shivehn _did_ look remorseful. “I’m sorry I can’t say more, U’Din. I don’t want you to hurt more than you already have.”

U’Din huffed out a laugh, hollow and forced. “Too late for that. This whole _secret_ thing has been hurting me since the beginning. What’s a couple of headaches on top of all of that?”

Shivehn shook his head. “I think we both know that it was more than just a headache, U’Din. And I just gave you a few _hints_. If I tell you the truth in its entirety, right here, right now, what do you _think_ is going to happen?”

“How would I know? It’s not like you would tell me! Keeping all my fucking secrets to yourself!”

“ _Idiot_ , I already told you! Your body can’t take such knowledge! It can barely take the little I gave you now! The only reason why you’re starting to remember is because your spirit is close to breaking free. Your prison is collapsing. You’re nearly there. Just _trust_ me. _Please_.”

“Why should I? You—You pretended to be a fucking _bird_ for a long time! Who knows what you really are? And you could have told me the truth little by little every day, starting from the day I found you in that stupid Chantry!” U’Din shoved Shivehn away, breathing heavily. “And what prison? Are you saying I’m _trapped_ somewhere? Then why don’t you just help me get out of it?”

“ _Because_ ,” Shivehn paused, looking very frustrated. He turned to face the tree, curved branches still cupping the moon, except for the side that was obliterated by his lightning. The large blue moon, previously a perfect fit inside the branchy cage, now looked like it was inching slowly to its freedom. The second moon watched from the side, small and helpless, _waiting_. He closed his eyes, sighing.

“Because I, too, am trapped.”

The snarl on U’Din’s face instantly vanished, and he immediately felt regretful. He turned away, rubbing at his arm.

“I just want to know who I am. It’s _torture_ not knowing, especially when the people you care about are the ones keeping the truth from you. It’s—It’s _lonely_. And empty. I feel so _empty_ , Shivehn. I’m missing something.”

“And you think it doesn’t pain me to see you this way? To see _us_ this way?” Shivehn asked. “I understand perfectly well what you mean, U’Din. I’ve been with you since the beginning, but I had only managed to break free when you fell into the Fade almost a year ago. I really wish I can help you break free, but I’m not strong enough to protect you yet.”

“Shivehn,” U’Din began, an apology dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to keep our truth from you, but I had no choice. I did not want us to start on a path we’re not ready for, even if we were meant to tread on it eventually. Corypheus was an unseen setback. And... Solas, too.”

“Solas?” He lifted his head up at the mention of the hedge mage, and he narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I... I’m not sure. I can’t seem to figure it out, myself. His affections are genuine for now, but,” Shivehn looked away, looking strangely flushed in the face. He cleared his throat. “Just. Be careful around him, U’Din. He’s... not what you think he is. He can easily hurt you. Hurt _us_. Think carefully before you act.”

U’Din opened his mouth to ask more questions, but another wave of pain burst in his head, causing him to fall down completely. Shivehn knelt by his side immediately, and the Inquisitor clutched at his head as he gripped his companion’s hand tightly. “Wh-What’s happening to me? What did I learn _this_ time?”

“Dawn is breaking. Your physical body is pulling you back to consciousness,” Shivehn explained. He let go of U’Din’s hand and brought him close till their foreheads touched. “U’Din, don’t fear. The cage is crumbling; you are almost _free_ —and I’ll be there to make sure you don’t get lost in the wilderness. You will know the truth soon enough, but you have to _trust_ me.”

“Who am I, Shivehn?” he despaired, face scrunching up in pain and sorrow as Shivehn crooned a calming, familiar tune. “ _What_ am I?”

“You are the bridge to a future you sought to attain for the past. The sleeping hero, the lost boat adrift the lonely sea,” Shivehn answered easily, voice firm and confident. U’Din wished he had that confidence. Smiling, Shivehn planted a gentle kiss on his nose. “And I am your forgotten song, calling you back home. Together, our story shall find its way back to the mouths of the People.”

“Sing _louder_ , then,” U’Din bit out, and he couldn’t help but relax as Shivehn laughed.

“Impatient. You really are me,” Shivehn said it so fondly that U’Din felt light. Or was that actual light, like the one drowning out Shihven’s face? “I suppose it’s fitting. After all, the living can wait, but we, the dead, won’t. Isn’t that right, U’Din?”

 

* * *

 

U’Din’s eyes shot open, and he blinked. After a delay of a few seconds, he gasped and sat up, regretting it almost immediately when he felt a dull ache at the back of his head. He moaned, not noticing the towel that fell from his forehead, and eased himself on his side, yelping when he fell unexpectedly. He looked down at his left side and realized why: his left arm was, of course, not there.

Well. At least he knew he was awake in Thedas now.

“Fuck, my _head_ ,” he groused, face still planted on the ground. He stayed still for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing himself on his back. When he heard a squawk, he shrieked and returned to his earlier position, the ocarina dangling from his neck. “The fuck—“

A flutter of wings. Then a weight pressed on top of his head. He looked up and saw Shivehn’s beady, dark eyes staring at him. He stared at the owl before screaming.

It all came back to him. The plaza, the tree, the fucking _fountain_. Shivehn morphing into his double, wiping out their attackers like they were nothing. Shivehn telling him things and _not_ telling him things; sowing distrust in his heart and easily kissing it all away again. Then saying things like you, me, _we_. Yours, mine, ours. Like they were the same.

But that’s impossible. How can U’Din be him and Shivehn be U’Din? That didn’t make sense. He must have heard him wrong. U’Din blamed the fucking fountain because it was _always there_ when something bad happened—

He hissed when Shivehn knocked its beak hard on his forehead, an obvious rebuke. He rubbed the offended skin and looked down at the owl, momentarily amused by its ruffled feathers.

Oh, wait. His. _His_ ruffled feathers. Because apparently Shivehn was male. _Well_.

“I mean, I guess I always knew, but I didn’t want to assume,” U’Din voiced out loud, knowing fully well that Shivehn would understand him either way. True enough, the owl gave him a flat look. “Just trying to be considerate here. It’s not like you _told_ me or anything. You don’t tell me a lot of things.”

Shivehn looked like he was about to explode. But before U’Din could shield himself from a blast of feathers and indignant squawking, light entered the tent as the Keeper showed herself in.

“Good morning, da’len. I trust you slept well?” she asked, kneeling down to his level. She placed her hand on his forehead. “You were slightly feverish last night, so I let you rest and tucked you in. Fortunately, your fever seems to have gone, so your allies have no need to worry.”

“A fever? Last night?” U’Din repeated, narrowing his eyes. They went wide when he realized what it meant. “Oh no, I didn’t get to finish my story! The children must have been so disappointed! Goodness, I’m so _sorry_ , Keeper—“

“Da’len, _hush_ ,” Deshanna interjected, looking both exasperated and fond as she frowned at him. “You were by no means obligated to carry that out. The children knew that you took out a large number of the humans that attacked our camp, so it wasn’t very surprising that you had retired early. They know better than to hold that against you, so don’t you fret.”

U’Din bit his lip. “But Ellana—“

“ _Never mind_ Ellana. I am your Keeper, so you listen to me. Understood?”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, crossing his legs as he sat straighter. He rubbed at his head as the Keeper handed him a wooden cup and a jug full of water. “Oh, thank you.”

“You just missed breakfast, though I made sure your allies saved you something for you to eat during your trip back to Skyhold,” Deshanna informed him, walking around him to fetch his satchel. She helped him pack his things without prompting, carefully placing the books, the pendant, and the sword hilt inside and locking the clasps. “Also, you’ll be pleased to know that you have gifts from Ellana and Mahanon waiting for you today.”

U’Din made a face, though he wasn’t sure whether it’s because she mentioned Ellana or Mahanon. Perhaps it was both. “Gifts? For what?”

Deshanna turned and gave him an owlish look. When he did nothing but stare back at her, she sighed sadly and said, “Oh, da’len. I had hoped those gifts I gave you yesterday would remind you, but you seem to have forgotten about it completely.”

“Huh? Forgot what?” he asked, turning to Shivehn for an answer. The owl turned his head towards him and blinked.

“Why, your _name day_ , of course!” Deshanna sounded aghast, and she handed him his satchel. She frowned at his wide-eyed look. “Really, I’m aghast. Your allies must be running you ragged if you’ve forgotten the very day you were born.”

“Oh, that’s _today_. Huh. I don’t feel any different.” U’Din looked struck, his mouth agape. Then he frowned. “So, on my name day, I’m stuck traveling for three whole days back to Skyhold. On a ship. While _puking_. Great. Best name day _ever_.”

“You could always stay an extra day,” Deshanna suggested, looking hopeful.

“No, I’ve been gone long enough. I seem to recall a certain ball I need to attend. Oh, shit, I’m going to a _ball_.” U’Din paused to look in the distance in horror. He stared up at the Keeper and smiled sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you can help me fake my own death?”

Shivehn huffed, and Deshanna frowned in disapproval. Yeah, probably not the best joke for him to make, _considering_. He winced at his tactlessness.

“I’m sure you’ll do well. I have complete faith in you, my Second.” Deshanna helped him up and gave him a fresh set of robes to change into. He noticed it was enforced around the back and chest area, which was always a plus for a more combative mage like him. A name day present from one of the crafters, most likely. “Now, I’ll help you change your bandages. Come here.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” U’Din groused, though he didn’t protest. He hated being treated like a child, but it was better to just let the Keeper do whatever she wanted instead of protesting. Besides, he wasn’t completely awake yet, so the help was actually more appreciated than usual.

When Deshanna finished the last knot, she stood up and gave him a strict look. “Now, go get changed. I have to meet with the elders to decide where the clan should relocate next. There should be a safe place where we can avoid both bandits and rifts.

“Your allies are waiting, and unless you want them bursting in here, you shouldn’t dally. Also, don’t you _dare_ leave the camp immediately; Ellana and Mahanon would want to see you off.”

“Yeah, I bet they would,” he muttered under his breath as the Keeper stepped out of the tent. He sighed and sat down on the floor, wrestling himself into the robe with one arm. When he found himself stuck, he squirmed, and then sighed in frustration when he realized he forgot to undo the belt first.

He felt Shivehn perch on his lap, and after a bit of pulling and clawing, the robe loosened, and U’Din managed to get his head through. “Thanks. That was a stupid mistake.”

Shivehn crooned and buried his head briefly into U’Din’s bandaged stomach. U’Din smiled and petted the owl’s head, laughing when Shivehn leaned closer to his touch.

“You know, I think I prefer you like this. Less Big and Noisy,” he remarked. Then he gave Shivehn a flat look. “Although, next time you wear my face, promise you won’t kiss me ever again, all right? It’s... weird. _Really_ weird.”

 

* * *

 

Admiring the single Crystal Grace in his hand, Cole swayed his legs as they hung over the side of Vhenas’ral. He was in the middle of rubbing the hart’s neck when he froze suddenly. He turned his head to the side and beamed, jumping down.

“Cole?” Cassandra prompted, surprised. She turned to see where he was running off to and exclaimed, “Inquisitor!”

U’Din wiggled his fingers in a form of greeting. “Good morning.”

“You’re awake, _finally_!” She practically barreled into him, gripping his shoulders and checking him all over. “We heard you had a fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. It went away sometime last night.” He blinked, obediently keeping still as she made one last check over him. “I apologize for worrying you all. I guess I was just exhausted.”

“You needn’t apologize, Inquisitor. It’s understandable, given what had transpired hours before.” Cassandra took a step back to give him his space, and she sighed. She gave him a strangely maternal look and added, “Although I would prefer that you stay close next time. If Cole hadn’t informed me that you were in your Keeper’s tent, I would have sent the soldiers out to look for you.”

“Cassandra was planning to send a missive back to Skyhold,” Cole chirped beside them, unaware of the glare Cassandra sent his way. “She started writing the letter in her head, too. Gone through four drafts by the time I came back to the tent.”

“ _Cole_ ,” she hissed warningly, but Cole just blinked back at her. She scowled before turning back to the Inquisitor. “But I did send a missive this morning to notify them of our return. We _are_ returning today, yes?”

“Of course. Keeper gave me her blessing,” U’Din said, nodding.

“And her well-wishes!” Cole chirped again, beaming at him. It took him a while to realize what the spirit was talking about, and he was too late to stop him from saying softly, “ _Happy_ name day, U’Din. I got you this. It’s not as nice as what Deshanna gave you, but...”

“ _Oh_.” U’Din couldn’t help but smile as Cole handed him the Crystal Grace he was holding. It was slightly damp, but it only added to its natural charm. He rocked it slightly, laughing when it chimed.

“I asked Solas to preserve it for me. He doesn’t know why I asked. I didn’t tell him.” Cole smiled and cocked his head to the side. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” U’Din answered, smiling brightly at the spirit. Shivehn chirped his approval on top of his head. “This has made me very happy, Cole. Thank you so much.”

“Good!” He sounded so relieved, and he clapped his hands together in joy. “That’s very good. You should be happy on your name day.”

“ _Name day_?” Cassandra’s flat voice broke the pleasant atmosphere, and U’Din found his smile freezing as she stared blankly at him before realization dawned. “Today is your _birthday_? And you never _told_ us?”

“Um. Sorry?” he tried, panicking when she heaved, “Wait, wait, let me explain! I forgot all about it, so—“

“Droopy!” Sera came bounding over, grinning like the loon she was. It fell a bit when she noticed the look on Cassandra’s face. She winced. “Ooh, starting early, eh, Cassandra? Droopy, what the frig did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he denied, shaking his head wildly. Shivehn squawked and perched on top of Cole’s head instead. “I mean, it’s not like I meant to forget—“

“Forget?” Solas arrived shortly after Sera and stood next to Cole. He was blissfully unaware of Shivehn’s narrow-eyed stare. “What did you forget?”

“ _Apparently_ ,” Cassandra gritted out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Today is the Inquisitor’s birthday.”

Silence. And then—

“ _Birthday_?!”

“Well, that’s... certainly a surprise—“

“Droopy has a _birthday_?!”

“—but now I see why Cole had me preserve that flower. I have to wonder, however, why you kept it a secret from us, Inquisitor.”

“No, I didn’t keep it a secret, Solas! Honest.”

“...Right.”

“Wait, seriously, let me explain! I seriously forgot about it, and it’s not like—“

“How could you forget your own birthday? Really, this won’t do. I’ll have to send back another message to Josephine. She will be cross, obviously, but I’m sure she can prepare a party good enough for you, Inquisitor.”

“P- _Party_? Okay, wait, _no_ , this isn’t a big deal! I don’t need a—“

“ _Paaaaaaartyyyyy_!! Whoo! This calls for some booze! Let’s stop by a tavern and get a keg or two! Birthday, _ha_! I can’t wait to get you pissed drunk, Droopy!”

“I am _not_ drinking, Sera!”

“Heh, we’ll see about that.”

“Parties should have _flowers_. I can get you some more, if you want.”

“ _Hoot_!”

“Cole, that’s sweet, really—“

“ _Nevertheless_ , we will be celebrating your birthday, Inquisitor. The Inquisition will accept nothing less than a grand feast at Skyhold. Now, if there isn’t anything else keeping you here, we best be on our way back to Ostwick.” Cassandra effectively put a stop to the conversation by glaring and walking away to inform the soldiers of their departure.

“Oh, you _really_ pissed her off,” Sera noted unhelpfully, grinning at the flat look U’Din sent her. She waved and pointed at one of the tents being disassembled. “’M not kidding about the booze, though. Sure I saw someone bring some mead or whatever. Be right back!”

“Sera, don’t drink while on horseback!” U’Din chased after her, muttering obscenities as she ignored him in favor of searching for her beloved booze.

“Are you angry?” Cole asked once he and Solas were alone.

Solas blinked. “What would I be angry about, Cole?”

“Well. I didn’t tell you it was his name day. And I asked you to help me with that flower...”

“I’ll admit, I was taken aback,” Solas confessed eventually as they walked to join their group. He turned his head briefly towards the Lavellan camp. “But it doesn’t bother me. I’m sure the Inquisitor really did forget.”

“He did. But it _does_ bother you. I can feel it there, in the back of your mind,” Cole ventures carefully, eyeing Solas’ reaction. “You wouldn’t stop staring at him. Thinking about him.”

“If you knew, then why did you ask?”

“I asked you if you were angry. I don’t sense rage as well as hurt in people,” the spirit explained. He frowned at Solas and added, “and those images of U’Din in your head, you looked like you were looming over him, and _he_ looked like he was scared but also kind of not? Are you planning to hurt him, Solas? I won’t let you.”

“ _Goodness_ , Cole, it’s not like that,” Solas reassured him, feeling embarrassed despite himself. He sighed. “It’s not like that. I would never hurt U’Din. But what you saw... please forget about it.”

“I can’t make myself forget. I don’t even know if I can do that,” he trailed off, looking contemplative all of a sudden. He blinked up at Shivehn. “ _Can_ I do that?”

Shivehn shrugged and chirped, and Solas couldn’t help but smile as the two started talking, leaving him to his own thoughts. He was about to make some last minute preparations when he heard a familiar voice.

“You. Solas, was it?”

He tensed his shoulders as he turned to face the two Dalish approaching him. Ellana and Mahanon stood a few feet away from him, exhaustion on full display on their faces.

“First Lavellan. Mahanon,” Solas inclined his head politely at the two of them, arms folded behind him but feet spread slightly apart. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mahanon opened his mouth to speak, but Ellana beat him to it. “You are about to leave, yes? With U’Din?”

“That is the plan, yes.” Solas nodded, resisting the urge to smile at how clipped her tone was. It looked like she still hadn’t forgiven him for his manipulation last night. “Do you have business with him? I’m afraid it’s too late to convince him to stay.”

“As if I want _that_ around for longer than necessary,” she bit out, holding out a hand to stop Mahanon from retorting. She gave him a warning glance before pulling out a bead bracelet from one of her many pockets. After a brief pause, she threw it at him, and he caught it.

“Make sure he gets that. Or not. I don’t care what you do with it.” She turned and started walking away, not even sparing him a glance. Solas noticed that her steps slowed at one point, thinking that perhaps she was going to stop and say something else. But her pace quickened, proving the hedge mage wrong.

“She’s going to regret that.” Mahanon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another bracelet, though unlike his sister’s, this one was a series of dulled canines attached together. With more care, he handed the bracelet to Solas.

“Look, I don’t like you. As in, I _really_ don’t.” Mahanon glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. “But I’m not... in the mood to see U’Din either. Seeing him leave is the last thing I want to do, though I doubt you care. Just make sure he gets those bracelets. We worked hard on them last night.”

“For his name day, I assume?” Solas inspected each bracelet curiously, idly thinking that they suited the person who had made them. It didn’t escape him that they were all enchanted, too, though he wasn’t knowledgeable enough in enchantment to determine the specifics.

“That’s right. So they better make it to him.” Mahanon narrowed his eyes at him before walking away, too. He stopped before he could get any farther, and he added, “I don’t know what U’Din sees in you, but if I find out that you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret it.”

Solas didn’t bother responding to the threat. The Dalish hunter went off the same direction Ellana did, leaving Solas in the clearing alone. He stared down at the bracelets, rolling the beads and touching the smoothened bear teeth. In all fairness, they both looked rather well-made.

While no one was watching, Solas released a quick burst of magic through his hands, testing the strength of the enchantments. Immediately, both bracelets let out a soft, golden glow, making him narrow his eyes. He pocketed the accessories and soon joined his allies, planning on studying them later on.

Well, it’s not like they said he had to hand them over to U’Din _immediately_ , now, did they? And Solas will. _Eventually_.

 

* * *

 

By the time they got back to Skyhold three (grueling, rocky, vomit-filled) days later, the Inquisition was, understandably, in a state of panic. U’Din, clueless soul that he was, quickly assumed that they were under attack. The resigned and exasperated looks he received from Cassandra made him think twice, however, so he took a few moments to come up with a possible explanation.

Fortunately, or _unfortunately_ , for him, Josephine decided to give one for him.

“ _Inquisitor_!”

U’Din froze mid-way down Vhenas’ral, and he slowly turned to see Josephine stomping towards him. He gulped and leaned back against the hart’s flank, bracing himself, before almost tripping because the beast decided to trot away. He sent a glare at the traitor’s back.

“ _Inquisitor_ ,” Josephine repeated, standing a few feet away, looking awfully cross. _Well_ , that settled it. U’Din was doomed. “First of all, let me just say that it is _good_ to see you back in one piece, and that the Inquisition will definitely investigate the suspicious bandits that have been terrorizing your clan. We have notified Duke Antoine of Wycome and have received permission to help relocate your clan in a small nearby valley east of the city.”

“Oh! Thank you, Lady Josephine. That would help my clan a lot, indeed.” U’Din paused just as Leliana and Cullen came into view. He smiled briefly in their direction before redirecting his wide, worried gaze back to the Ambassador. “But, um, you seem rather... incensed. Have I done something to displease you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say, _incensed_ , my lord, but seeing as you thought it a good idea to send news of your _birthday_ mere days ago, I can’t help but be a _little_ stressed,” she frowned before letting her mouth morph into a self-satisfied smile. “Fortunately, the contacts you had acquired so long ago were able to pull through, and we have a feast suitable enough for you. We even have those little cakes that you like.”

The thought of food (and little cakes!) made him practically salivate in want, but U’Din managed to only let his enthusiasm show through a subtle gleam in his eyes. He coughed into his fist and tried to look as grateful as possible. “Thank you for this, Lady Josephine. And I’m terribly sorry about keeping it from you all. I guess with all that’s been going on, I just completely forgot. And anyway, I didn’t think you guys would care about something like that—“

“Not care!” Josephine exclaimed, turning to her co-advisors and looking as if the Inquisitor had just agreed to join Corypheus in conquering the World. “Did you two hear what he just said? The Inquisitor doesn’t think we _care_!”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. _Of course_ we would care,” Cullen frowned disapprovingly before giving him a small, sheepish smile. “Although we probably _should_ have asked. For what it’s worth, Inquisitor, I wish you a happy birthday. Belated, as it is.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” U’Din thanked him empathically, admittedly more than just a little touched. Cullen had always intimidated him, but unlike Cassandra, he never seemed to warm up to U’Din. “It means a lot, hearing that from you.”

“Happy birthday,” Leliana greeted as well, smiling. She walked up to him and handed him a tiny cake wrapped in a napkin. Leaning over, she whispered behind a cupped hand, “a sample from the kitchen. I’m sure you more than deserve the first taste, Inquisitor.”

“Leliana!” Josephine admonished, scandalized. “The feast is tomorrow! The Inquisitor will have plenty of time to eat as much cake as he wants.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Josie. I worked hard to sneak into and out the kitchens to get this.”

“You’re our _Spymaster_ , Leliana. You collect secrets and information—you do _spy_ things. Sneaking into the kitchens should be child’s play for you.”

“I believe you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting our head cook yet, Commander.”

“Well, I suppose,” Josephine relented, sighing. One look at U’Din’s childlike glee at the tiny cake in his hand made her smile, and she clapped her hands together to get his attention. “But it is good to have you back, my lord! Now we can properly prepare for the ball at the Winter Palace. Your birthday party will be the _perfect_ place to practice your dancing.”

The tiny cake stopped half-way into U’Din’s mouth. The Inquisitor blinked at her, smile frozen on his face. “ _What_?”

“You heard me, Inquisitor. _Dancing_. People are expected to dance at balls, especially if they are important guests like yourself.” Josephine went over to him and started pushing him towards the keep. “But _before_ that, we have to make sure your formal attire fits you perfectly. Vivienne was so kind as to help with the design, and I daresay, I believe it would suit you perfectly!”

“Wait, hang on, what do you mean _dancing_? I didn’t know I had to dance!” U’Din moved his head frantically to the sides, tiny cake cupped protectively in his hand. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about my name day! I honestly forgot!”

“ _Really_ , Inquisitor, this has nothing to do with that! And _of course_ you have to dance! Did you really expect to get away with _not_ dancing?”

“No, no, _no_ , I refuse to dance and make a fool of myself! This wasn’t part of the deal! I was not _informed_!”

“And that is why we will practice, my lord! But first: your attire. We’ve acquired some shoes we’d like you to try on, as well.”

“ _Nooooo_ , please! Mercy!”

Cullen and Leliana watched on in amusement as Josephine herded the reluctant and flailing Inquisitor up the keep. Several people stopped what they were doing to watch as well, and this only made it even funnier to witness. When U’Din shrieked and yelled, _“my cake!”_ , the two advisors didn’t bother holding their laughter in anymore.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Varric marched up to them wearing a bemused grin. He followed their line of vision and beamed. “Oh, would you look at that! Willow’s back! Damn, I was really starting to miss the guy.”

“The Inquisitor was gone for a few days, Varric,” Cullen reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“A few days without our resident ball of sunshine? _Really_ , Curly,” Varric half-joked, barking out a laugh. Then he suddenly stopped and frowned. “Well, if Willow’s here, then maybe Sparkler can finally tell me what the hell’s been bugging him.”

Cullen blinked. “I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Oh, uh, nothing!” Varric shook his hands in front of him and started backing away. He pointed at the keep with his thumb and said, “I’m going to go check on Willow. Poor guy probably needs a little moral support. Ruffles won’t go easy on him, whatever she’s forcing him to do.”

“She’s going to teach him dancing,” Leliana supplied, eyes narrowed at him slightly. “Firstfall is fast approaching, which means the ball at the Winter Palace is upon us. You should all make preparations, as well.”

“ _Yikes_. How hard will it be to convince Willow to let me stay here, you think?” Varric made a face at the thought of having to attend. He sighed and turned around, waving them goodbye. “Well, see you later!”

“Odd, that,” Cullen commented, shaking his head with a smile.

“Hm, yes. Odd.” Leliana watched Varric walk up the steps for a moment before turning to the Commander. “While Josie is busy with the Inquisitor, you and I can get started on _that_. Where is Solas?”

“Ah, that’s right. Regarding Dagna’s findings, yes?” Cullen turned and squinted, looking for a certain bald elf. He frowned. “I don’t see him around here. He probably went up to the atrium or the library.”

“Well, let’s find him. The sooner we can have him collaborate with Dagna, the better,” Leliana said, eyes hard as steel.

“That’s right. It will help the Inquisitor immensely if we’re able to pull it off, after all. What could possibly be more important?”

 

* * *

 

“ _There you are_.”

Solas had just entered the atrium when a voice hissed behind him. He barely had time to register who it was when he was suddenly grabbed and hauled out of the atrium, right towards the gardens. They pass by Mother Giselle who, upon seeing them, frowned in disapproval. The hedge mage wondered what had elicited such a response.

“I may have stressed the importance of my favor, but you could have at least warned me,” Solas began, frowning as Dorian sealed him in a deserted room with a statue of Andraste inside. He looked up at it once before facing the necromancer—then pausing upon seeing the mage’s face. “Dorian?”

“Less talk. No time,” Dorian cut to the chase, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He took out a roll of paper and waved it around. “I did what you asked. I researched. I studied. I _looked_. I identified the sample you gave me and let me tell you, what I found out has made me absolutely distressed for _days_ to the point of _no sleep_ and _bad hair_ and I _demand_ an explanation.”

“I seem to recall that I asked you to identify it _first_ before telling you anything,” Solas threw back coolly, unaffected by the man’s frazzled state. “So tell me what you found out.”

“It’s ludicrous! It’s unbelievable! It’s _horrible_!” Dorian exclaimed, rolling out the paper and letting one end fall to the floor with a noisy clank. He rapidly went through his notes and said, “in fact, it’s so outrageous that I refused to believe it at first. I went through trial after trial after _trial_ because who would even _believe_ —“

“Dorian! _Focus_!” Solas pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself down. Well, he supposed he should have expected this reaction. Not many people were open to the idea after all, much less aware that it was even _possible_. But while Solas understood where the Tevinter was coming from, he wanted to hear the words he had been anxious to hear for days. “Just come out and tell me. What did you find?”

“...The salve,” Dorian began after a pause, and much more calmly this time. He sighed and rolled up the scroll before handing it to Solas. The hedge mage looked through his notes as he continued speaking. “The salve you gave me didn’t mean anything to me at first. It was strange, yes, but the Inquisitor’s condition itself was strange. What’s an equally strange-looking balm to soothe it? That was, of course, until I realized that it looked familiar. _Very_ familiar.

“In case you’ve been asleep your entire life, the Mortalitasi are a group of mages that specialize in death magic. They are mainly practitioners of mummification, attracting spirits with low intelligence to possess the corpses. Most just practice the discipline because they wish to better understand death and how a person’s spirit becomes displaced after their passing. It was a rather _fascinating_ experience to see a corpse reanimated for the first time. Wait, no, actually, it was awful. Couldn’t sleep a wink for a week when I first cast that spell—“

“ _Dorian_.”

“Right. Well, one of my many tutors was a necromancer. He mainly lectured me on the practice of death magic, and how studies on the discipline could potentially help the World be a better place, _blah, blah, blah_. He gave me this book where it describes the many rituals done by the Mortalitasi. And _that’s_ where I found out.”

Dorian took hold of the scroll and showed Solas a section near the middle. He pointed at a list of ingredients, and the hedge mage narrowed his eyes at what he saw.

Deathroot. Blood Lotus. Blightcap. Felandaris. _Rashvine nettle_. Solas’ eyes drifted to his right hand.

“These are some of the ingredients I’ve found in the Inquisitor’s salve. Not exactly the kind of herbs I would use for _healing_ —at least, for living beings. While it’s incomplete—there’s one or two herbs that I just _can’t_ identify, for the love of me—the list is similar enough to another balm I’ve come across that I’m entirely _sure_ that it has the same function: Sighs of the Unliving, a salve used to sustain the short lifespan of reanimated corpses used for observation and experiments.

“Do you understand what this means? _Solas_ ,” Dorian grabbed him by the shoulder when he didn’t respond immediately, and when the elf turned he saw manic fear in the Tevinter’s eyes. “ _That’s_ why the Inquisitor can’t heal normally. That’s why he’s resistant to cold, why he gets jumpy whenever I use my magic! That’s why only _this thing_ has managed to help him so far!

“The Inquisitor is  _Undead_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome. - Rikka
> 
> ^ you’re a bitch but a bitch who gets the job done :/ - Yamira


	37. Bring on the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U'Din realizes that it's not just other people who can depend on him; he can depend on other people, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm still not well enough to go online for too long, so apologies to the people I haven't replied to yet! I've read all your comments and love them very much. :(( I appreciate your well-wishes, too! 
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Rikka will come around to beta it later. Chapters 1-3 have been revised too, so if you're curious about the changes I've made, go ahead and read them! I'm working on chapters 4-6 now :3
> 
> This is a very happy chapter. Hope you guys like it!

_“You don’t seem to be enjoying the festivities, my lord.”_

_He turned to the source of the voice, taken aback by the approach. Glad for the black mask obscuring his face, he chuckled and relaxed against the marble pillar. “Am I being that obvious?”_

_“No,” came the amused voice. It was unfamiliar, and he wondered briefly what the face looked like behind the crystal mask. “But considering you’ve been absent from these gatherings for a while, your lack of participation is rather curious. You’re usually twirling on the dance floor, or titillating a guest or two. The pastries are also suspiciously untouched.”_

_“You’ve been watching me, have you?” he huffed, though there was no real heat in his words._

_“A great deal,” the stranger admitted easily, his sly smile uncovered by his half mask. “You’re rather popular, my lord.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_“Oh, yes. Word of your skill has reached far beyond His Lordship’s territory, and I must say, I am impressed. Not many of the arcane knights reach such a high status.”_

_“Because I walk the path that leads astray.” He smiled ruefully, though he knew the stranger wouldn’t be able to see it._

_“On the contrary, I would say you walk the path that leads to victory.” The man behind the crystal mask smirked as he turned to face him. “Given your recent exploits, it seems like a good omen, don’t you think?”_

_“Exploits, you say,” he repeated dully, though his body tensed under his formal cloak._

_“Indeed. And I must say, I’ve become a fan.” The stranger leaned closer, and his breath tickled the bare skin on his neck. “Perhaps you and I share the same interests. It would be a fascinating experience if we could compare notes.”_

_“Notes?” he asked softly, turning slightly. Their masks were so close to touching._

_“Why, on dancing, of course!” Crystal Mask leaned back and laughed, and he clinked his glass against his own, untouched and full. “Many a noble titters about your skill on the dance floor. I’d be honored if you can join me for the next dance, my lord.”_

_“The honor would be mine, friend,” he said, smiling despite himself._

_The stranger inclined his head. “Till later, my lord. And I hope you don’t mind sharing the spoils of tonight’s celebration; I, too, enjoy the pastries.”_

_“Not at all.” He watched as Crystal Mask bowed and vanished in the sea of guests. He clenched his jaw and headed towards the buffet table, and true enough, half the pastries were already gone._

_He smiled. Well, now._

 

* * *

 

Name days were never a big deal back with his clan. They were celebrated, of course, but the celebrations mostly consisted of a humble feast and a few prayers of gratitude and beseeching, and U’Din himself had to be persuaded by the Keeper to join in (and lead) for the latter. There was music and dancing, but it was very tame. Not loud. Not like this.

“Drrr _ooopy_!” An arm was wrapped around his neck, and he was suddenly pulled in a tight embrace by a very inebriated Sera. He placed his goblet down when she started shaking him. “Droopy, get a swig o’ this! It’s—It’s qunari booze! Friggin’ _brilliant_ , this is, it’s like liquid fire and—“ she took a swig and started hacking up her lungs, and U’Din did his best not to let any of her spittle get on his face. “It’s wet but it _burns_!”

U’Din sighed, rolling his eyes fondly. Yes, name days were definitely _not_ like this back home.

“That’s really nice, Sera,” he commented. He sent apologetic smiles to the guests staring at them, scandalized. “But I told you, I don’t drink alcohol. It’s bad for me.”

“Boo, you’re so _boring_ , Droopy,” she grieved, waving the bottle in the opposite direction. U’Din tried not to laugh as she glared in that direction too. “Just like—just like _Solas_. Boring, old man Solas. And boring, inky Droopy. No wonder you two like each other, pfft. Two boring elves, being boring together. Feh, _booooring_. Gonna spend their boring lives together, making boring magic elfy sprogs, and—“

“Maker’s balls,” a gruff voice spoke, and U’Din smiled in greeting as Blackwall headed their way. The warden shook his head as he looked her over. “Now isn’t this just sad? You get smashed like this from a _bottle_? You really are a kid.”

“ _Not a kid_! This is—this is _qunari booze_. Really strong stuff. Packs a—packs a punch like _wham_! Splat! Here, try some!” She twirled and punched the air with the bottle, spilling some in the process. U’Din could have sworn the ground started sizzling a bit, but that could just be his imagination.

“No way am I touching that,” Blackwall said, shaking his head. He turned towards the Inquisitor and asked, “so, how’s the leg? You still doing those exercises I taught you, I hope.”

At that, U’Din paused and smiled guiltily, scratching his cheek. “Oops. Sorry, I forgot all about them. I’ve had a very long week, though I know that’s not an excuse.”

“Too right, it’s not an excuse, Inquisitor, even if it’s your birthday. How’s your leg going to get better if you don’t keep it in shape? Looks like you and I will be having an early morning tomorrow,” the warden said, nodding solemnly to himself. He was most likely already coming up with exercise routines in his head, and U’Din tried his best not to make a face. Blackwall hummed and turned to the archer. “Right then, Sera, come along now. To the tavern with you.”

“What? _Whyyyy_?” she whined, clinging on to U’Din and failing. She hiccupped. “We’re _bonding_. Can’t you see that? Go ‘way.”

“Right. _Bonding_.” Blackwall huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Though it’s looking pretty one-sided to me. Now, I call that just being a bother.”

“It’s all right, Warden Blackwall. She’s not bothering me,” U’Din reassured, though he let Blackwall get the drunk, giggling archer off of him.

“Now, see, that right there? That’s your _too nice to say no_ voice. She’d be jumping on the chandelier and you’d still say she’s being saintly.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. There’s nothing remotely saintly about Sera, that’s for sure.”

“Ha! True, that.”

“Nice Droopy! Very nice,” Sera boomed joyfully, reaching out to pat U’Din on the head. She giggled. “Jus’ like his new hair. I did that. Nice hair. Fixed what Bitchy did, me. I’m the best.”

“The very best,” U’Din indulged with a smile, waving as Blackwall carried her off. She kicked his chair away on their way out, making the warden curse at her. He grinned as he watch them leave the keep.

“Well, that’s a sight you don’t see every day,” an amused voice quipped behind him, and he turned to see Dorian eyeing where the pair had vanished. “Wait, let me rephrase that: that’s a sight we have the misfortune of seeing _mostly_ every day, and wish desperately that we didn’t.”

U’Din chuckled, reaching for the goblet he put down a while ago and took a sip. “Well, Sera’s responsible enough not to drink the day before she’s set to head out on an operation, so that’s good enough, I suppose. Of course, drinking _during_ an operation is apparently okay.”

“I have this theory,” Dorian began, making a show of looking around him for any eavesdroppers. U’Din grinned as he leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, “that she relies on the effects of alcohol to be as skilled as she is with the bow and arrow. Without it, she’s mundane. She’s... _normal_.”

“ _No_.” U’Din played along, stifling a laugh as Dorian nodded solemnly.

“Oh, yes! Can you imagine? A run-of-the-mill archer in our little elite circle of super-powered individuals? _Scandalous_. I propose we kick her out before anyone else finds out. We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“I’ll have to talk to her first, I think. Seems a little cruel to just get rid of her like that.”

“Ah, you are too kind, Inquisitor. Much too kind,” Dorian sighed, placing a hand over his chest like he was about to swoon. “What _did_ this World ever do to deserve you?”

“Not a lot of good things, if it’s me the World’s stuck with,” U’Din said, smiling sardonically behind his goblet.

Dorian tutted. “Now, now. Let’s save the self-deprecation for a day that’s _not_ meant for celebrating, hm? It is, after all, your birthday.”

“Isn’t one’s name day _the_ day for the most self-deprecation?”

“No, no, you’re thinking about marriage anniversaries and family reunions. Birthdays are for bemoaning the lack of progress in one’s life and wondering where in the World it all went wrong.”

“ _Shit_ , I’ve been doing it all wrong, then.” U’Din mock-frowned before nodding resolutely. “Very well. Tonight I hate myself for living through thirty-one winters without _ever_ accomplishing anything significant in my life. Here’s a toast in honor of my dead parents who are, most likely, lamenting their son’s lack of motivation and drive, wherever their spirits are.”

“And I return that toast. Although my parents are still quite alive, unfortunately.” Dorian clinked his own goblet against U’Din’s, and for a while they sipped their drinks quietly. The silence did not last, however, and they both ended up choking on their drinks and laughing uncontrollably.

“Maker! What a pair of sad sods we are,” Dorian laughed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yes. Nobody should be putting us on their party guest lists,” U’Din said, shaking his head and grinning.

“Ah, I have to disagree, Inquisitor! After all, how can other people know how happy and wonderful their own lives are if they don’t see us poor, unfortunate souls drinking our sorrows away? We’re practically _required_ to attend.”

“Well, in that case, we’re very much welcome at the Winter Palace,” U’Din said, stilling for a moment as he watched the guests at his party mingle and laugh. He didn’t even know half of these people, and yet here they were, celebrating his birth. He wondered if the reception would be just as warm in Halamshiral, though from what he had heard, people like U’Din weren’t very welcome there.

People like U’Din weren’t even considered people, _period_.

Dorian eyed the wistful smile on his face and sobered a bit, following his gaze. After a moment of companionable silence, he asked, “I take it you are nervous about the ball? You don’t have to be, you know. I’m sure you’ll do perfectly fine.”

“ _Fine_ won’t be enough, I’m afraid. Lady Josephine says I have to impress everyone.” U’Din made a face and sighed. “Apparently, not a lot of people would take me being an elf very well. Especially in Halamshiral. I’m certain I would lose approval points just for showing up.”

“I won’t lie and say your fears are unfounded. Even in Tevinter, elves are...” Dorian trailed off, clearing his throat. He sent U’Din a reassuring smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Worry not, U’Din. The Inquisition will be there with you, and I’m sure the advisors have come up with a plan to make sure you’re well received. I’m willing to take some of that attention off of you, if you need. Here in the South, a Tevinter is even worse than an elf, yes?”

“How do you handle it?” U’Din asked, now that it was brought up. He bit his lip and turned to his friend. “The staring, the whispering. The _judging_. And for something that you can’t really help. I’ve had people doubt me for my race, but I’ve never been...”

“Hated? Distrusted?” Dorian supplied for him, smiling ruefully. He shook his head. “Well, I can’t say that it doesn’t sting just a tiny bit. What my people had done in the past is beyond awful, and I won’t try to deny that, but to be associated with past wrongs just because of your race—it’s depressing. And the prejudice comes from everyone: soldiers, guests, even the mothers. You know it’s terrible, if even the priests can’t bear to look at you sometimes.”

U’Din’s brows furrowed at that, and he began to feel concerned. “Do you mean Mother Giselle? Is she treating you unfairly, Dorian?”

“Oh, it’s nothing I can’t simply ignore, Inquisitor. It helps that I have a rather thick skin. And that’s the trick to it, I think,” Dorian answered, pausing to take a small sip. “Sometimes, the best way to deal with the idiotic preconceptions of simpletons is to grin and bear it, and work hard to prove them wrong. Striking back will only affirm their prejudice, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we? So I say, bring on the night. The monsters in the dark are nothing you can’t handle.”

“Bring on the night,” The Inquisitor tested the words on his tongue. Still, “so I just... pretend it doesn’t bother me? _Grin and bear it_ , like you said?”

“You’ll find that the more you do it, the easier it gets.”

“That sounds a lot like lying, though. I don’t know if I can do that convincingly,” U’Din said, sighing.

“It doesn’t have to be lying, Inquisitor. Pretending, yes, but not necessarily lying. Wearing your heart on your sleeve will only be your undoing, and in shark-infested waters like the Winter Palace, one has to do their best not to become prey.”

“I need to sit down,” U’Din said, stepping back to sit on his chair. “I feel like the pressure is starting to get to me—“

“Watch out!” Dorian suddenly exclaimed, holding out his hand.

U’Din froze midway, and he blinked in surprise. He looked down and saw that his chair was _not_ right behind him, but actually pushed a few feet away. _Sera_. He let out a sigh of relief; falling on his arse was the last thing he wanted to do in front of so many guests. And on his name day party, too.

He moved to step away, frowning when he realized that he could not. In fact, it felt like his body really _was_ frozen. As if something was keeping him in place.

And just as quickly as that thought came, his invisible binds disappeared, and he grabbed on to Dorian’s shoulder to right himself.

“That was close,” he breathed. He turned to Dorian and found him visibly sweating, and he blinked up at him. “Dorian? Are you all right?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, _yes_. Indeed. I...” the Tevinter cleared his throat and helped him stand upright before taking a few steps back. U’Din’s frown deepened. “I just recalled that the copy of the _Liberalum_ tome arrived this afternoon, and I promised Josephine I would get to work on researching Corypheus’ origins. She threatened to stop importing that hair oil I like if I don’t finish it, you see, so I do believe I must get started.”

“Oh, I see! I’m sorry for keeping you from your research then, Dorian. And it’s awfully nice of you to help out with that.”

“Of course, Inquisitor. Glad to help. Glad to... help,” Dorian finished lamely, chuckling a little. He inclined his head and backed away quickly. “Lovely party, Inquisitor. And happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Dorian. Good night!” he waved, his small smile falling slightly as he watched Dorian make a hasty retreat. He held the goblet to his mouth and sipped, wondering what had gotten into the man.

“Inquisitor,” Leliana appeared beside him just as he considered turning in for the night, and she smiled sweetly at him. “How are you enjoying your party?”

“Oh, hello, Lady Leliana! I’m having a terrific time. The food is delicious. You shems really know how to make your cakes.” U’Din beamed, turning briefly towards the buffet table. A lot of the sweets had already vanished, but U’Din knew nothing about that, oh no. “The music is lively, too. The bards are very talented.”

“I’m glad! You should be enjoying your own party. Josie really outdone herself this time.” The Spymaster’s laugh was genuine, and the look in her eyes was warm. Her eyes adopted a teasing glint to them as she leaned closer. “But I noticed you haven’t done any dancing. Don’t tell me you’re shy, Inquisitor.”

“What? _No_ ,” U’Din denied, turning to place his goblet on the long table behind him. He forced a laugh and said, “I mean, I don’t really feel like dancing tonight, Lady Leliana. Or any other night, actually. I’m happy just watching people enjoy themselves.”

“ _You_ should be the one enjoying yourself! It is your party, after all.”

“Well, I enjoy myself when other people do. Enjoy themselves, I mean. You don’t have to worry about me, Lady Leliana, I was just on my way back to my quarters—“

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily! Here, come with me,” Leliana smiled cheekily and grabbed his hand. She led him to the center of the hall and pulled him close as the music transitioned to something slower. “This song is my favorite. The steps are quite easy to learn too, so just follow my lead for now, yes?”

“Wait, we’re dancing? Right now?” U’Din panicked, looking around to see if anyone was watching. Some of the guests were dancing too, but had most likely noticed him joining them on the floor. He gave Leliana an uneasy look and groaned. “I dunno, Lady Leliana, I can’t really dance properly with just one arm—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Inquisitor. We’ve taken care of that little problem.” The smile on Leliana’s face was far too innocent to be genuine, and the anxiety pooling in U’Din’s gut grew twofold. “For now, just let me lead you, yes? And make sure you watch and learn.”

“All right.” He sighed, resigned to his fate. He concentrated on her footwork, trying not to squirm too much under her hold on his waist. It wasn’t like she was being rough; in fact, she was being quite gentle with him. Pretty soon, her patience and positive energy helped U’Din’s nervousness to dissolve into genuine pleasure. Leliana was a delightful dance partner, he realized.

He sighed again, more wistfully this time. If only it had been someone else’s hand on his waist.

 

* * *

 

“—okay, one little tweak over here, and a little calibration over _here_... done!” a bouncy dwarf backed away from the table and observed her work for a few moments. She let out a deep breath and said, “okay! That should do it. I hope.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Shall I?” Solas turned to the arcanist, his hand held out and glowing with his magic.

“By all means!” Dagna took a step back but kept a close eye on the proceedings, giggling a little as Solas approached the table. “Ooh, this is so exciting, I can’t _wait_.”

“That’s what you said the last fifty-three tries,” Solas pointed out drily, though he was smiling softly.

“Think positive, Solas!” she sing-songed, light eyes turning bright blue as Solas built more magic in his hand.

The hedge mage touched the apparatus on the table and sent his magic coursing through it. Several stones attached to the device lit up in response, and a low murmur resounded in the Undercroft. Solas waited for the lights to dim slightly before retreating his hand a bit. Then, he made a silent command: _left_.

The apparatus twitched for a moment, then slowly, it turned to the direction Solas wanted it to. He envisioned two fingers moving, and the apparatus continued to follow his silent command. He tried more tests—wrist rotating, fist clenching, fingers tapping on the hard wood of the table—before Dagna let out an excited squeal behind him.

“It worked! It _worked_!” she grabbed onto Solas’ arm and started shaking him. The hedge mage just stared at her, momentarily stunned by the sudden touch. “It finally worked! Oh wow, we actually made it work!”

“I believe that was the idea, yes?” Solas gently pushed her off of him, watching as she jumped happily around the Undercroft. He rolled his eyes, though he was smiling softly. “Let’s not get too excited, arcanist. This artificial arm might respond to simple commands, but it is not clear whether it will properly channel the Inquisitor’s magic like we intend it to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. But geez, it’s already a good thing that we’re able to make it work like an actual arm!” Dagna stared and cooed at the artificial arm like a normal person would to an adorable baby. Well, for the dwarf, any working invention might be just as cute as one. “This is—this is _revolutionary_. Do you know how many people with missing appendages could benefit from this?”

“Indeed. Though not many would be open to the idea of using magic to power a prosthetic,” Solas said, ever the optimist. He could feel the dwarf rolling her eyes at him. “And I believe the only reason the arm is able to respond properly to lyrium and magic is because the owner himself is a mage. This may be revolutionary, as you say, but it may only benefit mages. Possibly even templars.”

“Well, mages are people with needs, too! I still think it’s a pretty awesome idea.”

“It is,” Solas agreed softly, eyeing the arm for a moment before allowing himself to show a smile. Like Dagna, he is pleased with their progress (though much more restrained). He could already imagine the look on U’Din’s face upon seeing this. The Inquisitor would no doubt wonder why Solas bothered to keep his arm in the first place, but when he finds out that Solas had foregone sleep just to guarantee its completion...

“Well, someone looks happy!” Dagna teased, grinning widely at him. Solas realized then that he had been smiling a little too dopily, and he schooled his features promptly. “I knew you wanted to finish this as soon as possible, but you looked a little _too_ satisfied just now.”

“And why would I not be satisfied? The whole point of this collaboration was to make sure the arm worked.” Solas’ face betrayed nothing as he sniffed. “I hardly doubt my satisfaction over a job well done deserves any close scrutiny.”

“Sure, Solas. Just so you know, I claim half the credit for this thing, all right? Don’t go hogging all the glory to yourself when you present this shiny new toy to your man.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Aww, come on! You don’t have to pretend around me.” She laughed as she threw a cloth over the device. “When I arrived, I made sure to listen to _all_ the latest gossip around here. I know all about you two, and I think it’s really cute, what you two have going on.”

Solas frowned, slightly alarmed. Gossip? “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, _gossip_. Like, who’s who, what’s eating who, who’s _eating out_ who—“

“If there isn’t anything else to be done, I believe I must retire,” Solas interjected smoothly (or not, if the knowing look Dagna was shooting him was anything to go by). He inclined his head in her direction and headed for the door. “Thank you for your assistance, Dagna. This would not have been possible without your help.”

“Of course not! Magical theory is nothing without application, and I’m the best at it! No one’s better at enchantment than me!” Dagna paused, frowning a little. “Well, I guess there’s this _one guy_ , but he’s kinda screwy in the head, so I win. Ha!”

“Of course,” Solas indulged, not really listening. He left the Undercroft feeling a little dizzy over finding out people have been _gossiping_ , though that did very little to dampen his sense of accomplishment. He had another project in mind, too, and he wanted to finish it before the advisors approved the device for the Inquisitor’s use.

With the rest of the night planned, he walked back to the rotunda. If he was smirking a little and puffing out his chest a bit, well, no one was awake to see him, so all was well. All was well.

(Shivehn watched him strut from all the way up the chandelier and rolled his eyes. _What a hoot_.)

 

* * *

 

“It’s so _shiny_ ,” Cole said to U’Din a few days later. He just finished etiquette and dance lessons in Josephine’s study, and now he was utterly exhausted. Mentally _and_ physically.

“I know.” U’Din held back a defeated sigh as he sat on his thro— _his designated chair at the end of the hall_. He refused to call it a throne. No, _no way_. “I was hoping they wouldn’t go for something so stuffy, and I could do without the silky sashes. And everyone matches too, which is all kinds of embarrassing. At least mine is black—“

“No, not that,” the spirit said, shaking his head. He beamed down at the slumped Inquisitor and added, “I mean the gift the advisors have for you. _Old, but new, repaired and renewed._ I hope you’ll like it. They worked really hard to get it done for you.”

“Get what done for me?” U’Din asked, sitting properly as he eyed Cole curiously.

“Your gift. I just told you.” He cocked his head to the side, confused. Shivehn glided down from atop the chandelier and landed on the spirit’s head, hooting.

“Yes, I know, but what did you mean?” he asked. When Cole just stood there silently, the Inquisitor turned his gaze on the owl. He narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You. Do you know anything about this gift? What is it?”

Shivehn hooted, and he looked like he remembered something that amused him. He flew down to perch onto his chair’s left armrest and pecked at it a few times, sending him wide, meaningful looks. “Hoot!”

“...They’re giving me a new chair?” U’Din guessed.

The bird looked physically pained. He turned to Cole with such a sorrowful expression that U’Din actually felt guilty for not getting it the first time. “ _Hoot_.”

Cole reached out and gently caressed his head. “It’s all right, Shivehn. You don’t have enough energy to speak to him properly after what happened in the Fade. It’s not your fault. You should give yourself credit for trying.”

“Hoot!”

“Why am I not surprised that you know all about that, Cole?” U’Din sighed, shaking his head. A thought came to him, and he eyed the spirit suspiciously. “Wait a minute. Does this mean you knew all along? About _him_?”

“Yes,” the spirit said, looking down and shuffling his feet. Great, now _Cole_ was the one being adorably sad. Why was this U’Din’s life now? “I’m sorry, U’Din. He told me not to tell you. You can’t know a lot. Not yet.”

“Because I’ll get _hurt_. I know.” The Inquisitor scowled and nodded reluctantly. “It’s just frustrating to be kept in the dark, you know? All along, I knew something was different about me, but...”

“You’re anxious. You want to know if you’ll know before... _before_.” Cole nodded to himself, his tone as-a-matter-of-fact. He might as well have been talking about the weather. Others would have called that cold, but to U’Din, it only meant how deeply Cole understood him. He appreciated him a lot for it. “You’re tired of the waiting, the wanting. But you’re also afraid of the unknown, the unsettling. You think about those dreams and wonder _why_ , because they have to be important to you but you don’t _know_ why. But in order to know, you have to wait. And it’s back to step one.”

“Glad to know you can poetically summarize my woes, Cole.” U’Din smiled, feeling a little better. Shivehn hopped on his lap, and he petted the creature, spirit, _whatever he was_. “I just feel like I’m not making enough progress. Maybe Dorian was right; name days are all about wondering where the fuck it all went wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong. You’re on the right track,” Cole said serenely, playing with his fingers. “The path you’re taking is meant to be walked on slowly, surely. Speed doesn’t mean progress. Not always.”

U’Din considered that, understanding the wisdom in the spirit’s words. But his fears were still very much real; he didn’t have a lot of time. Between Corypheus and managing his condition, he doubted he’d have any opportunity for a little self-discovery project. And the dreams...

 _‘My dreams are getting more detailed by the day,’_ he thought, frowning in worry. _‘Is that a sign? But for what?’_

Shivehn hooted quietly on his lap, kneading his thigh with his feet.

Cole sighed as U’Din’s worries washed over him, and he itched to say _something_ , but he knew it would only hurt his friend more. He promised to himself he would do everything he could until the time came. Until the end.

A new flavor of worry tickled his senses, causing him to tilt his head in curiosity. This one tasted less grave, more superficial; slight anxiety, anticipation for possible rejection. _Will he like it, will he wear it? Did I read his fondness for owls correctly?_

Cole’s mouth parted as he let out a silent gasp of awe. “This one is shiny, too!”

“Huh?” U’Din raised his head, and all of a sudden Cole was gone. He looked around before blinking down at the owl on his lap. “Where’d he go?”

Shivehn hooted and turned his head towards the end of the hall. U’Din followed his gaze and stared. “Lady Vivienne?”

“Inquisitor, _darling_!” the enchanter walked up to him, a billowing of expensive white and turquoise silk. It was always interesting to see her walk; she definitely knew how to wear clothes, he thought. “I’m glad I found you. I hear you’ve been quite busy, preparing for the ball. How are you faring, my dear?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Lady Vivienne. Thank you for asking.” U’Din paused, unsure if he should try out Josephine’s advice on holding polite conversations out yet, but if anyone could give him proper feedback, it was Vivienne. He smiled a little more sweetly than he was used to and added, “What about you, Lady Vivienne? How are your preparations? I must say, I’m delighted that you’re one of the inner circle accompanying me to the ball. I find myself breathing a little easier, knowing someone of your caliber is going to be there with me.”

“Oh, Inquisitor,” Vivienne’s quiet laugh sounded delighted, and something almost playful danced in her eyes. “You’ve been taking your lessons seriously, I see. Flattery is, indeed, a classic and useful tactic to ensnare people’s approval. It helps that you have a natural charm that has most people lowering their guard around you.

“However, the more experienced of players in the Game will not be fooled. For these people, it’s the delivery, the hidden meaning behind your sugary words. I advise you to read up on as much literature as you can—even the most meaningless trivia will grant you a foothold in the Empress’ court.”

“And not saying what you really mean but meaning it at the same time.” U’Din nodded, taking Vivienne’s advice to heart. “I understand. But I wasn’t trying to flatter you, Lady Vivienne. I’m really looking forward to learning from you.”

The look in her eyes softened, and her smile looked much less manufactured. “I know, dear. And I will teach you as much as I can before we leave for Halamshiral in two days.”

“Oh no, we leave in two days already? _Shit_.” U’Din despaired, hunching over to hide his face in his hand. Shivehn hopped away as he bent over, hooting indignantly. “I’m going to embarrass myself. I’m going to doom Orlais. I’m going to cause the end the World.”

“Now, now, U’Din dear, don’t slouch. It’s bad for your posture,” Vivienne chided with a tut, and she walked a little closer. Peaking from between his fingers, he just noticed that the enchanter was carrying an ornate box in her hands. “Now, I am aware that we will all be wearing similar garments for... _solidarity_ , but as the Inquisitor, you have to be distinguishable from the rest of us. I took it upon myself to commission this for you just for that very purpose.”

U’Din gasped as she opened the lid of the small chest. “Oh, Lady Vivienne, you shouldn’t have!”

“I know, darling,” she said pleasantly. She pulled out a ball mask and showed it to him. The design made U’Din stare in mute shock.

The mask was asymmetrical, decorated with thin silver and gold strands twining above the eyebrows. Only the left side had an eye hole, leaving the right side of the face almost bare. It was much more unique than the masks he was used to seeing on Orlesian nobles’ faces. But what drew U’Din was its motif: both sides were framed with outstretched wings, with the left side stretched further to reveal individual feathers. The center had black and white gems forming the face of an owl; its beak hiding where the bridge of the nose would be.

“Well?” came Vivienne’s query. “What do you think, dear?”

U’Din reached out for the mask, and the enchanter handed it over. He turned it around and looked at it closely, admiring the way the silver glinted and the gems winked. He huffed out a laugh, overwhelmed. It was _gorgeous_.

Shivehn hopped on his shoulder to look at it, and his chest rumbled in delight. He approved.

“Lady Vivienne, I,” he paused, looking between Vivienne and the mask. He laughed, unable to properly articulate his joy. “This is—I’m just... I don’t know what to say. No words can express how I feel about this.”

He put on the mask, hooking the thin strands of silver twined black and gold behind his ears. The mask seemed to have been measured, and though U’Din had no idea how Vivienne managed to get it to fit so well without consulting him, he was too happy to care. He looked up at Vivienne and smiled. “How does it look, Lady Vivienne?”

“ _Perfect_. Just like I envisioned it would,” she was all smiles and bright eyes. She was very pleased with herself, and U’Din swore he noticed her shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit. “I’m thrilled that you liked my gift, Inquisitor. Everyone at the Winter Palace will find it difficult not to stare, that I’m sure.”

U’Din grinned, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that flattery too, Lady Vivienne?”

“I save flattery for tiny fish, my dear, and you are no fish.” She waved her hand, laughing lightly. “You’re a predator. And people will know, just by looking at you.”

“Well, someone looks dashing.” Both mages turned and saw Commander Cullen approaching. He glanced at U’Din and smiled. “Seems like you’re ready for the ball after all, Inquisitor, if you are already accessorizing.”

“Of _course_ he’s ready. The Inquisitor takes his job very seriously.” Vivienne huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Only she could make such an act look so elegant and graceful, U’Din thought.

“I never implied otherwise, First Enchanter,” Cullen said, focusing his gaze on U’Din. “Inquisitor, there is something we’d like to show you in the Undercroft. This was a project we’ve been working on for weeks, and it is all thanks to Dagna and Solas that it’s finished. We would need you to test it, though we are all confident that it’ll work.”

U’Din blinked. Cole’s words echoed in his head—shiny, shiny, _shiny_ —and he nodded, feeling a bit excited. He wondered what it could be, and if Cullen was smiling at him like that, it had to be something really good.

“All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re him! The _Inquisitor_.” A dwarf bounced up at him as U’Din entered the Undercroft. She grinned and shook his hand. “Hi! I’m Dagna. _Arcanist_ Dagna, though you probably already guessed that. You look like the smart type. I would have said hi much sooner, but they set me up to work right away! I barely had any time to sleep.”

“You’re making us sound so horrible,” Cullen groused.

“Well, I guess you didn’t tell me to work _right_ away. You let me have lunch first!”

“The advisors are paragons of virtue, yes.” U’Din turned to see Solas (as well as Leliana and Josephine) standing near a table covered in a cloth, and he smiled in pleasant surprise. The hedge mage returned his smile, though much more softly. “Hello, Inquisitor. How are your lessons?”

“They’re going well. I think I’m more or less prepared for the Winter Palace, though I’m still kinda nervous about it,” he admitted, sighing. He played with a few of the longer strands of his much shorter hair. “Is everything all about mind games and posturing for Orlesian nobles? They’re all a rather carefree and naive bunch.”

Cullen snorted, patting the Inquisitor on the shoulder. “Oh, Inquisitor, you don’t know half of it.”

Leliana cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Carefree and naive as they may be, Inquisitor, but these people play a rather dangerous game. It’s for your sake that you learn everything you can to navigate your way through the Winter Palace.”

“Indeed. Language and dancing are the weapons of choice for these people, my lord. And they can be just as deadly as any blade,” Josephine added.

U’Din groaned. Why did they all have to be so serious? It just made him even more nervous. Turning his eyes towards the table behind Solas, he said, “so what’s this thing I need to test out? Commander Cullen said you’ve been working on it for a long time.”

“Indeed, Inquisitor. This project began just a few days before you left for the Fallow Mire, and it was delayed slightly due to... unexpected complications.” Leliana didn’t have to mention what that was. “But thanks to the combined efforts of Dagna and Solas, we were able to finish it before the ball. And just so, since I remember you telling me how difficult it was to dance with just one arm.”

 _That_ got U’Din’s attention. He stared at the table with a little more anticipation now. “And is this project of yours going to help me with that?”

“You’ll find that it will do more than just help you twirl a dance partner, Inquisitor,” said Solas with a hint of amusement. He turned to Dagna and inclined his head. “If you would, arcanist.”

“ _Sure_ , Solas.” Dagna grinned mischievously at him, which made U’Din curious when they’ve developed a dynamic that allowed that. They couldn’t have known each other that long, could they?

The dwarf grabbed the cloth and, after a dramatic pause, said, “feast your eyes on _this_ baby!”

Whatever it was, it glinted such a bright silver that U’Din had to shield his eyes briefly. After adjusting to the light, he turned back and gasped. He approached the table slowly, unable to close his mouth because _holy shit_.

It was an arm. A shiny, silver arm carved with vines and runes that glowed a bright blue that reminded him of lyrium. Its design looked more like a gauntlet, which U’Din first assumed it was, but there was no slot available to insert one’s arm. The device was _solid_ , and he had a really bad feeling about what lay inside the silver shell.

“That’s my arm, isn’t it.” It wasn’t even a question. He turned to the others and pointed at the device. “My old arm. Why do you have my old arm? That’s just—isn’t it kinda _dead_?”

“That’s what I said,” Cullen said, somehow sounding off-put and validated at the same time. “But apparently an appendage that once belonged to a mage doesn’t stay quite as dead as we think it should.”

“You underestimate the body of a mage, Commander. A vessel so intimately connected to the Fade may be dead spiritually, but physically it is still very much active. Why do you think mage Undead are so rare? Lesser spirits have a harder time possessing a mage’s body because of the innate magic still trapped within. Only powerful demons can possess the corpses of mages, which is why among all the Undead, the Revenant and the Arcane horror are two of the most dangerous.”

“ _Thank you_ , Solas. That was very informative,” Josephine said, though she had gone slightly pale from the trivia.

“Is it possible for a demon to possess the arm, then?” Cullen asked, looking quite alarmed.

“As it is now, yes. But once it is connected to him, the risk of possession of the arm should be equal to the risk of possession of the Inquisitor. Which is quite low, if you recall the events at Therinfall,” Solas explained.

“So that means we gotta hook this up to you right away, Your Worship!” Dagna lifted the arm from the table and gestured for U’Din to come over.

“All right,” he agreed easily enough, though after Solas’ short lecture he eyed the arm a little warily. He was confident in his natural resistance against demons, but the thought of his arm going Undead on him wasn’t very pleasant. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one who thought of it.

“How can we be sure that his arm will be entirely his after this? Will it be possible for anyone to take control of it? Demon or otherwise?”

“Demons are almost guaranteed unable to possess the arm. Other mages, on the other hand, may be able to take control of it, provided that they are even aware of the arm’s nature.”

“And what if they just _happen_ to be aware of it? What will happen to the Inquisitor? Corypheus _does_ have the mages on his side.”

“Runes _are_ carved on the arm itself, Commander. It will deter any harmful magic that intends to control or break it. I am also working on a special warding spell, though I still need a few more days to finish it.”

“And what of the arm possessing _him_? Is that even possible?”

“That would imply that the arm has a consciousness of its own, which, of course, it does not.”

“Commander, I’m confident that Dagna and Solas have done everything they can to foolproof the arm,” Leliana interjected, coming between the two men. “Safeguards have been placed around it, and the Inquisitor can easily discard it if the arm is compromised. Isn’t that so?”

Solas nodded. “Yes. A latch cutting off the lyrium supply is located under a protective rune along the vambrace. The Inquisitor simply has to activate the rune to cut off the supply. It will be useless then.”

“Not so useless, as you’ve said. The arm is _technically_ dead, and a bit of necromancy can possess it, yes?”

“Oh, who would even _think_ to use necromancy on the Inquisitor, Commander? Unless we spread that information ourselves, which of course we _won’t_ , then we have very little to fear. And we have Lord Dorian on our side. He’ll make sure nothing happens to our Inquisitor. Won’t he, Solas?”

Solas’ smile turned quite eerie, as if he knew something the others didn’t. “Of course. I’ll run it by him.”

While the advisors and Solas were discussing, U’Din was trying very hard not to show his discomfort. He and Dagna tried rolling up his sleeve, but with the dwarf’s height and his lack of appendage, it proved quite difficult. Now he was standing in a top with a ruined left sleeve while the dwarf calibrated the arm for attachment.

“I get the feeling we should wait for a signal before doing this,” U’Din began, looking back at the group. “They seem to be discussing something important, miss Dagna. Maybe we should stop first.”

“Hmm, maybe! But look, I’m already done.” Dagna pressed something on the arm, and the veins and runes suddenly glowed much brighter. U’Din also heard a low whirring sound coming from it. “Here we go! Now, Inquisitor, turn your left shoulder towards me and...”

“I still don’t think this is a good ideaaaAA?!” U’Din squeaked and jumped, and he flailed his right arm as the device attached itself to him. It felt like cold water going up his veins, and his upper arm, previously numb, suddenly became overloaded with senses and feeling  and _wow_.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine exclaimed, and the rest crowded around him. “Inquisitor, are you all right?”

“I knew it, the arm is possessing him! Everyone back away, I’ll handle this—“

“No, wait,” Leliana placed a hand over Cullen’s shoulder and pointed at the Inquisitor. “Look.”

U’Din stared in awe as the arm moved. The wrist rotated, the elbow turned, and it was only after his fingers wiggled did he realize that it was all his doing. _He_ was moving the arm. He made the elbow bend, the wrist spin and the fingers snap. On the third snap, he imagined _fire_ , and he huffed a short laugh when a small flame appeared on the tip of his thumb.

He had his left arm again. He wasn’t... he wasn’t _useless_ anymore.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen began, calmly observing him but still alert. “Is the arm fine, Inquisitor? If there are complications, then— _oof_!”

“ _Thank you_.” U’Din hugged the Commander and _squeezed_ , before moving on to Leliana and Josephine. The advisors stood there, stunned silent. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I know—I know I’ve given you all a hard time before, and for that I’m sorry. But _this_. You gave me my purpose back! Now I can be the Inquisitor you all want me to be.”

“Lord U’Din,” Josephine began, her eyes turning glassy.

“Thank you, Dagna. I’ll make sure to take care of this.” U’Din bent down to hug the dwarf, which she returned enthusiastically.

“Aww, don’t mention it, Inquisitor! Although it does feel nice to be appreciated. It would be great if you could go to the training field and test out your magic there. I’d like to see if there are any improvements we can make before the Winter Palace.”

“Done. I’ll get to it right away.” U’Din drew back and turned. His eyes settled on a certain hedge mage, and he almost let out a sob. He ran to Solas and hugged him tight, and the impact forced Solas to take a few steps back.

“Inquisitor?” Solas stood still, unable to comprehend the warm feeling in his chest that made him want to shudder and fall. U’Din drew back momentarily before leaning back in, but this time to place a quick peck on his lips.

“ _Oh_ ,” Leliana hid a smile behind her hand and giggled.

“Thank you so much, Solas. I can’t tell you how much this means to me, so I hope that makes up for my lack of articulacy.” The smile on U’Din’s face could blind, and being so close to him, Solas doubted he could ever learn to see ever again.

“You are... welcome, Inquisitor,” Solas said dazedly, not even noticing when U’Din stepped back and laughed, moving his left arm around like a child with a new toy.

“Commander Cullen, can we test this out, please?” he practically begged, clasping his hands together imploringly. And wasn’t that amazing in itself? He whooped with joy, unable to contain himself.

Clasping hands, shaking hands, _clapping_ hands. These were completely normal actions that most people took for granted. But U’Din knew better. He was grateful for this second chance, and he was going to do his best to do well with it.

“O-Of course. Follow me, Inquisitor,” Cullen said after composing himself. He cleared his throat and led a bouncing Inquisitor out the Undercroft. Josephine and Leliana followed shortly, but not before giving Solas a meaningful look.

“I did not think the rumors were true,” Josephine said, trying very hard not to smile so wide. She inclined her head in his direction before leaving. “Congratulations, Solas. Please take care of the Inquisitor.”

“If you make him cry, I’ll make _you_ cry,” Leliana threatened pleasantly, wiggling her fingers at him as she left.

“ _So_ ,” Dagna said after a moment of silence. She sauntered up to Solas and grinned coyly up at him. “I guess this means the gossip is confirmed?”

Solas shook himself out of his daze and cleared his throat. He inclined his head briefly in the arcanist’s direction and promptly left. Dagna’s giggles echoed throughout the Undercroft.

 

* * *

 

“Looks like you’re ready for the ball, boss. Fancy mask you got there.”

U’Din turned to see Iron Bull walking over to him, curiously still dressed in his usual clothes. He was currently looking over the wall, watching the soldiers and scouts make the final preparations for his departure. Cullen was down there, barking last minute orders and making sure the recruits knew what to do in every possible scenario. He himself was just down there, listening to the same lecture.

“Thank you. Lady Vivienne got it for me _._ ” He adjusted the mask on his face and smiled despite the anxiety eating at him. He wrung his hands and let out a deep breath. “I hope I don’t ruin it or get it dirty. We’re expected to run into the Venatori during the ball, and I fear I’m going to end up destroying _something_ nice in the next few days.”

“Well, if it does get ruined, have her get you another one. I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to dress you up again.” Iron Bull grinned briefly. He crossed his arms over his chest and considered him. “You nervous?”

“A bit. No wait, very. _Very_ nervous. So nervous I think I’m going to puke.” U’Din sighed and stepped back from the wall, turning to lean back against it instead. Iron Bull joined him, and he listened as the Inquisitor ranted, “I don’t know if I can do this. A lot of people’s lives depend on my success. If I fail, Corypheus is going to win and the entire _World_ will—“

“Take it easy, boss. Deep breaths. Nice and steady.” Iron Bull rubbed his back as he breathed heavily. “Listen to my voice, let it ground you. Think about things that calm you down. You can also count. That helps, too.”

“Okay. _Okay_.” U’Din let out a deep breath and nodded. He sent a grateful smile in Iron Bull’s way. “Thanks, ser Iron Bull. I needed that.”

The qunari scoffed and said, “geez, boss. None of that _ser_ stuff, all right? Too... _formal_. And this stupid ball at the Winter Palace is enough formal to last me my entire life.”

U’Din chuckled. “But you’re just there as my bodyguard, ser—uh, Iron Bull. You’re not expected to socialize or anything. Just... stand around and look really tough.”

“I suppose. But I gotta wear that ridiculous outfit, though. And it has collars. And _sleeves_.” Iron Bull growled and crossed his arms. He flexed them a little and added, “who would want to keep _these_ babies hidden, seriously?”

“Is that why you refuse to wear tops, Iron Bull?” U’Din hid a smile behind a shiny, silver hand.

“Well, sleeves make me chafe, usually. And they usually rip to shreds anyway so I don’t really bother.”

“Really? I thought you just wanted to make the ladies swoon. I hear the priests talk about you sometimes.”

“Ha! Didn’t think you’re the type to listen to gossip, boss.”

“Well, it’s hard not to overhear them when they talk so loudly. I swear, it’s like they _want_ people to hear.”

“Who knows? Maybe they just gossip loudly whenever you pass by. And speaking of wanting people to hear,” Iron Bull stepped back from the wall and gestured towards the tavern. “Come with me, boss. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

U’Din tilted his head. “Really? What is it?”

“Some of the soldiers were talking in there. About you.” He raised a hand before U’Din could speak. “Nah, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. In fact, it might help you. But you need to stay near the window and keep quiet.”

“Why do I have to hide?” U’Din asked warily, though he followed the qunari to the tavern. True enough, he did hear people talking rather loudly. The door was wide open, and soldiers came in and out of the tavern. Why the soldiers were off drinking the night U’Din was supposed to leave was beyond him, but perhaps these people weren’t coming along with them.

He was about to walk inside when Iron Bull pulled him to the side of the tavern. He scowled up at the qunari and fixed his outfit. “Iron Bull, I’m not supposed to get my clothes dirty—“

“Just stay here, all right? And listen closely.” The qunari grinned and even winked at him, making U’Din roll his eyes.

Once he left, U’Din obediently waited and stood beside the window, out of sight. He heard Iron Bull’s loud, boisterous laugh, and the soldiers joined in and greeted him. Huh. He didn’t know Iron Bull was popular with them.

In fact, U’Din just realized that he didn’t really know the soldiers at all. He was friendly enough with them, but he never really went out of his way to get to know them. It was so unlike what he used to do before, when he would sit down with the men and women under his command and drink and sing songs with them. U’Din smiled at the memory, and he hummed a soft tune he remembered singing with his soldiers before... _before_ —

His head throbbed painfully, and he hissed. He leaned against the wall for support, holding on to his head and wondering what in the World just happened.

“Hey, boys, _ladies_ , how’s it going?” U’Din’s head jerked when he heard Iron Bull’s rumbling voice. Wood creaked, and he guessed that Bull had just taken a seat. “Busy night, eh? With the Inquisitor leaving for Halamshiral.”

“You said it. _So_ many drills,” one of the soldiers said, eliciting some laughter from the rest. “But it’s for the good of the Inquisition, yeah? Can’t be too careful, with that maniac running loose. Who knows what he could be planning?”

“Yeah. We’ll be ready for the bastard!”

“For the Inquisition!”

“For the _Inquisitor_!”

There was a chorus of agreement and enthusiastic cheering, and U’Din felt his face warming up. He had no idea the soldiers thought so highly of him.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Ha! And the Inquisitor will do his part at the Winter Palace. He’s counting on every single one of you to keep this place safe.”

“Don’t worry, Iron Bull. We’ll take care of Skyhold for ‘im!”

“We’ll fight off every single Venatori bastard that dares to come near! No way are they getting one over the Inquisitor!”

“Say, would you tell him for us? That we’ll do our best? We’re counting on the Inquisitor, but we know he’s counting on us, too. Even though we’re all staying out here, we know we have a role in protecting His Worship.”

“Of course we’ll protect him, you dolt! The Inquisitor’s risking _his_ life to save the World. You don’t meet a man like that and not want to help out, too. Can only aspire to be half of what he is, I.”

“Nah, you’re barely a tenth, and even that’s being too generous.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell him for us, Iron Bull. We’re here for him till the very end!”

“Yeah! For the Herald of Andraste! For the Inquisitor!”

“Take down the Venatori scum!”

“That Corypheus bastard won’t know what’s comin’!”

“ **Yeah**!”

By the time the soldiers started singing a song off-key, U’Din had already sat down on the grass, staring into space with unshed tears in his eyes. On one hand, he was overwhelmed with how much faith the soldiers had in him, but on the other...

He clutched his head as the throbbing persisted, and he saw flashes of hooded individuals gathered around a fire, holding up chalices and rejoicing. Some of them were seated next to him, looking at him with such respect and awe. U’Din’s arms stretched out to pull them into a hug, and they sang until the dark sky bled into the pinkish hue of dawn.

_The sky is dark, but Hope is bright. We join our arms and brave the night. Together we stand, together we fight. So bring on the night, our Hope shines bright!_

 Iron Bull went out of the tavern and back to the Inquisitor. U’Din’s face had worried him at first, but the tears running down his face made the qunari smile and shake his head. He knelt down and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, inclining his head when U’Din looked up at him.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to get your clothes dirty, boss?” he asked.

U’Din sniffled and leaned to give the qunari a hug. Iron Bull stiffened slightly, but then relaxed and patted the Inquisitor’s back a few times. He pulled U’Din up along with him, and he fixed his mask.

“Come on. Josephine’s going to kill me if she sees your snazzy clothes all ruffled up. And your hair looks like it should get fixed, too.”

“I hate you for showing me that.” U’Din sniffled, left hand still holding his throbbing head. He smiled at Iron Bull and mock-punched his shoulder. “But thank you, Iron Bull. I needed that.”

“You’re a guy who’s got a lot on his shoulders. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you’re not in this alone.” Iron Bull grinned. It was still cheeky, though U’Din could detect a warm tinge to it. “You’re the Inquisitor, but _we’re_ the Inquisition. We’ve got your back, boss.”

U’Din sighed and smiled, nodding. The weight on his shoulders felt much lighter now, and the painful clenching in his gut practically vanished. A sense of dread still lingered, but it wasn’t as strong as before. A little faith went a long way, it seemed.

As U’Din boarded the carriage that would take him to Halamshiral, he thought about the advisors, his friends, the entire Inquisition. They depended on him to succeed, and the possibility of failing them had scared him. But now he realized that he had to depend on them too, because this wasn’t just about him. The fate of the World relied on what happens in the Winter Palace. And U’Din was never supposed to go alone.

He heard Vhenas’ral’s loud whinny and leaned back against the cushioned seats. Closing his eyes, he hummed a soft tune as the carriage moved.

“ _Together we stand, together we fight_ ,” he sang softly, the old Elvhen tongue flowing smoothly from his lips. “ _So bring on the night, our hope shines bright_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U'Din is happy. You all know what that means 8')

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [To Have Fortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151113) by [Damon_Ricky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damon_Ricky/pseuds/Damon_Ricky)




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